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SERMONS 



BY THE LATE 



REV. SAMUEL C. THACHER. 



WITH A 

MEMOIR 

By F. W. P. -GREENWOOD. 




BOSTON: 

PUBLISHED BY WELLS AND LILLY. 
1824. 




district of Massachusetts, to wit; 

District Clerk's Office. 

BE it remembered, that on the twentieth day of February, A. D. 1824, in the forty-eighth 
year of the Independence of the United States of America, Wells and Lilly, of the said District, 
have deposited in this Office the title of a Book, the Right whereof they claim as Proprietors, 
in the Words following, to wit .— 

" Sermons by the late Rev. Samuel C. Thacher. With a Memoir by F. W. P. Greenwood." 

In Conformity to the Act of the Congress of the United States, entitled^ " An Act for 
the Encouragement of Learning, by securing the copies of Maps, Charts and Books, to the 
Authors and Proprietors of such Copies, during the times therein mentioned " and also to an 
Act entitled, tk An Act supplementary to an Act, entitled, An Act for the Encouragement 
of Learning, by securing the Copies of Maps, Charts, and Books, to the Authors and Proprietors 
of such Copies during the times therein mentioned ; and extending the benefits thereof to the 
Arts of Designing, Engraving, and Etching Historical and other Prints.'' 

JNO. W. DAVIS, 

Clerk of the District of Massachusetts. 



PREFACE. 



The Sermons now presented to the public, have 
been selected from the late Mr. Thacher's manu- 
scripts, with the permission of his relatives ; and 
such corrections have been made as alone seemed 
necessary to fit them for the press. It is believed 
that they will form a valuable addition to our 
treasures of practical divinity. As discourses for 
family reading, they will not suffer, perhaps, in 
comparison with any which have been published. 

In whatever light they may be regarded by the 
public, the Editor is confident that they will be 
gratefully received by those for whose particular 
instruction they were composed, and who still re- 
member the looks, the tones, and the gestures 
with which they were accompanied, when pro- 
nounced by lips that have long been silent. By 
them, these Sermons will be cherished as a valua- 
ble memento of their departed friend. 



PREFACE. 



Prevented by the will of Providence from any 
longer addressing the same religious society as 
their pastor, the Editor feels a mournful pleasure 
in thus partially restoring to them the benefits of 
his predecessor's labours, and in being permitted 
to join his own name with one so highly and de- 
servedly revered. 

F. W. P. GREENWOOD. 

Feb. 5. 1824 



CONTENTS 



Memoir $f Mr. Thacher. - - xiii 

SERMON I. 

ON EARLY PIETY. 

Prov. xxiii. £6. — My son, give me thine heart, and let 
thine eyes observe my ways. - 1 

SERMON II, III. 

ON THE NECESSITY OF A RELIGIOUS PRINCIPUB OF 
ACTION. 

Heb. xi. 6.— He that cometh to God, must believe that he 
is, and that he is a rewarder of them that diligently 
seek him. -14 

SERMON IV, V. 

ON THE GOVERNMENT OF THE THOUGHTS. 

Psalm cxxxix. 23, 24. — Search me, 0 God, and know my 
heart ; try me, and know my thoughts ; and see if there 
be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way 
everlasting. - - 38 



CONTENTS. 



SERMON VI. 

TRANSIENT RESOLUTION. 

Phil. iv. 1. — Therefore my brethren, dearly beloved and 
longed for, my joy and crown, so stand fast in the 
Lord, my dearly beloved. 59 

SERMON VII. 

LOVE TO OUR NEIGHBOUR. 

Rom. xiii. 9.— And if there be any other commandment, it 
is briefly comprehended in this saying, namely, Thou 
shalt love thy neighbour as thyself - - -71 

SERMON VIII. 

THE CHRISTIAN LAW OF RETALIATION. 

Rom. xii. 17. — Recompense to no man evil for evil, 83 
SERMON IX. 

ON HUMILITY. 

Prov. xv. 33. — Before honour is humility. - - 95 
SERMON X. 

ON HONESTY. 

Job, xxvii. 5. — Till I die, I will not remove mine inte- 
grity from me. 109 



CONTENTS. 



SERMON XL 

ON CONTENTMENT. 

Phil. iv. 11. — For I have learned in whatsoever state I 
am, therewith to be content. - - - - 120 

SERMON XII. 

THE ORIGINALITY OF THE CHRISTIAN SYSTEM, AN 
ARGUMENT TOR ITS DIVINITY. 

John, vii. 15, 16. — And the Jews marvelled, saying, 
How knoweth this man letters, having never learned ? 
Jesus answered them, and said, My doctrine is not mine, 
but his that sent me. 130 



SERMON XIII. 

SAVING FAITH. 

Acts, x. 34, 35. — Then Peter opened his mouth and said, 
Of a truth I perceive that God is no respecter of per- 
sons ; but in every nation, He that feareth Him, and 
worketh righteousness, is accepted with Him. 143 

SERMON XIV. 

RULES FOR THE STUDY OF THE SCRIPTURES. 

2 Peter, iii. 15, 16. — Even as our beloved brother Paul 
also, according to the wisdom given unto him, hath 
written unto you, as also in all his epistles, speaking 
in them of these things ; in which are some things hard 



CONTENTS. 



to be understood, which they that are unlearned and 
unstable wrest, as they do also the other scriptures, unto 
their own destruction. - - - - -158 

SERMON XV. 

ON THE BOOK OF JOB. 

John, v. 39.— Search the Scriptures. - * - 171 
SERMON XVI, XVII. 

ON THE SOURCES OF SIN IN THE HUMAN CONSTITU- 
TION. 

1 Cor. x. 12. — Let him that thinketh he standeth, take heed 
lest he fall. - - 183 

SERMON XVIII. 

ON ORIGINAL SIN. 

Eccl. vii. 29. — Lo, this only have I found, that God hath 
made man upright; but they have sought out many 
inventions. - - - - - - - 210 

SERMON XIX. 

ON THE UNITY OF GOD. 

Mark, xii. 29, 32, 34. — And Jesus answered him ; The 
first of all the commandments is, Hear, O Israel ; the 
Lord our God is one Lord. And the Scribe said unto 
him, Well, Master, thou hast said the truth; for there 
is one God ; and there is none other but he. And when 



CONTENTS. IX 

Jesus saw that he answered discreetly, he said unto 
him, Thou art not far from the kingdom of God. 224 

SERMON XX. 

ON THE INFLUENCE OF THE FEMALE CHARACTER ON 
SOCIETY. 

Prov. xxxi. 28.- — Her children arise up, and call her 
blessed. 243 

SERMON XXI. 

ON LEAVING THE OLD CHURCH. 

Psalm xxvi. 8. — Lord, I have loved the habitation of thij 
house, and the place where thine honour dwelleth. 263 

SERMON XXII. 

ON THE DEDICATION OF THE NEW CHURCH. 

i Peter, iii. 1 5. — Be ready always to give an answer to 
every man that asketh you a reason of the hope that is 
in you, with meekness and fear. - Q77 

Notes and Illustrations. - - - 305 

A DISSERTATION, 

On the kind and degree of evidence necessary to establish 
the Doctrine of the Trinity, and by which we might 
expect the Doctrine of the Trinity would be supported 
in the Scriptures. - 317 

R 



MEMOIR 



MEMOIR 

OF THE 

REV. S. C. THACHER. 



Samuel Cooper Thacher, the author of the following 
Sermons, was born in Boston, on the 14th of December, 
1785. He w as the son of the Rev. Peter Thacher, D.D. 
who in the January of the same year had been in- 
stalled minister of the Brattle Street Church ; to which 
situation he was called from Maiden, a village in 
the neighbourhood of Boston, where he had discharged 
the pastoral duties for the first fifteen years of his mi- 
nistry. He is still remembered by many of the inhabi- 
tants both of Maiden and Boston as an eloquent preach- 
er, sincere patriot, and excellent man. He was so re- 
markable for the glowing piety and ready language of 
his devotional exercises, that the celebrated Whitfield is 
said to have called him "the young Elijah."* 

* A memoir of Dr. Thacher, by the Rev. Dr. Eliot, was published in the 
Massachusetts Historical Collections, vol. viii. Old Scries. 
C 



XIV MEMOIR OF THE 

For many generations, indeed, the ancestors of Mr. 
Thacher had, from disposition and preference, been of 
that profession, which, among the Israelites, was made 
the duty of a tribe. His grandfather and great-grand- 
father, both of the name of Oxenbridge Thacher, though 
in after life engaged in different pursuits, had ministered 
at the altar of God, till ill health obliged them to retire 
from its service. The elder Oxenbridge was the first 
man who preached to the settlers of Stoughton ; and Ms 
father was the Rev. Peter Thacher, the first minister of 
Milton, where he was ordained in the year 1681, and 
where, as was not unfrequently the case among our sim- 
ple forefathers, he performed for his parishioners the du- 
ties both of clergyman and physician. He was the son 
of the Rev. Thomas Thacher, who came over from En- 
gland in 1635, and was the first minister of the Old 
South Church in Boston, of which he was ordained the 
pastor in 1670. He also was a physician, as well as a 
divine ; and he too was the son of a clergyman, the Rev. 
Peter Thacher of Salisbury in England. 

From early life, the subject of this memoir exhibited 
those qualities of mind and heart, which are so very de- 
sirable in a teacher of religion ; and the reflections of 
more ripened years determined him to assume a profes- 
sion, which his fathers before him had followed and 
adorned. 

He received the elements of instruction at the Free 
Schools of his native town ; and was fitted for college at * 
the Latin Grammar School, then under the care of the 



REV. S. C. THACHER. XV 

late Mr. Samuel Hunt. In the year 1800, at the usual 
time for the examination of candidates, he was admitted 
a student of the University in Cambridge ; and was gra- 
duated with its highest honours at the annual Commence- 
ment in 1804. 

While at the University, he had the happiness of gain- 
ing the attachment and respect of his classmates and 
fellow students, and at the same time of securing the confi- 
dence and favour of the college government. He possessed 
good sense, good temper, and a true independence of spi- 
rit ; and therefore could hardly fail to recommend him- 
self, both to the companions, and to the guardians, of 
his studies. He knew that the cultivation of his mind 
was his business and his duty ; and that the object of his 
instructers, in all their discipline, could be no other than 
his good. He was not disposed to consider every new 
requisition, an encroachment on his rights, and every of- 
ficer of instruction, his natural foe. He thought too, that 
quite as much independence could be shown by firmly 
opposing the passionate measures of mistaken youth, as 
by withstanding the fancied usurpations of his superiors 
and tutors. But still he had so much kindness of dispo- 
sition, was so affectionately attached to his companions, 
and so obviously free from a servile spirit, that he never 
forfeited their friendship, or fell under their suspicion. 

Before leaving the university, Mr. Thacher had de- 
cided on the choice of a profession. In a letter to his 
elder brother, the Hon. Peter 0. Thacher, dated the 15th 
of December, 1803, he communicates his intention of 



XVI MEMOIR OF THE 

preparing for the ministry. To this object, he says, « all 
his hopes and wishes are directed f 9 and he prays God 
that lie " may not be permitted to touch his ark with un- 
holy hands." Immediately after taking his first degree, 
he commenced his theological studies in Boston; and en- 
joyed the valuable privilege of having them directed by 
the Rev. Dr. Channing. The friendship formed between 
these two gentlemen, was intimate and confidential ; 
was rendered still more so by the subsequent settlement 
of Mr* Thacher over a church particularly associated 
with Dr. Channing's ,* and was interrupted only by that 
event, which suspends all human connexions, till they are 
renewed and perfected in a better world. 

In the early part of the year 1805, Mr. Thacher took 
charge of the Latin Grammar School, during a vacancy 
in the office of head master, and retained it till the ap- 
pointment of Mr. William Biglow, as successor of Mr. 
Hunt. He then for a short time kept a private school. 
He belonged, at this period, to a society of gentlemen 
who conducted the Monthly Anthology and Boston Re- 
view, the most respectable literary work, of a periodical 
kind, which had then been published in our country. 

The summer of 1806 introduced him to an entirely 
new scene of study and enjoyment, and brought to him 
the accomplishment of a desire, which he had long in- 
dulged, though with but little hope of its ever being gra- 
tified — the desire of seeing other countries than his own. 
It had been deemed expedient, and even necessary, that 
the lamented Mr. Buckminster. in travelling abroad for 



REV. S. C. THACHER. XVII 

his health, should, on account of the peculiar nature of 
his disorder,'^ be accompanied by some friend, who 
might be at hand in any emergency to administer assis- 
tance, and procure relief; and Mr. Thacher was re- 
quested to be that friend. This overture he immediately 
accepted ; regarding himself as singularly fortunate in 
being furnished with means of accomplishing a favourite 
object, at the same time that a fellow traveller was se- 
cured, whom he so highly esteemed. Mr. Buckminster 
sailed for England in May. Mr. Thacher left Boston in 
June, and in July had the pleasure of joining his friend, 
who was then at the house of Samuel Williams, Esq. in 
London. 

Early in August they embarked together at London 
for the Continent : and after a disagreeable passage of 
three days landed at Harlingen, in Holland. From Har- 
lingen they crossed the Zuyder Zee to Amsterdam, and 
passing rapidly through Haarlem, Leyden, and the 
Hague, arrived at Rotterdam before the middle of the 
month. Here, the friends were compelled to separate. 
Mr. Buckminster set off on a tour through Switzerland, 
and Mr. Thacher proceeded through Williamstadt, An- 
twerp, Brussels, Valenciennes, and Peronne, to Paris. 

" And what shall I write you of Paris," he says, in a 
letter to his brother, " of Paris, the centre of gaiety and 
pleasure, of splendour, folly, vanity and crime ; the place 
where you find every form of beauty, magnificence and 
taste ; every display of ingenuity and art ; in short. 



* It was enilcpsv. See Thnchev's Memoir of Buckminstei-, 



Xvili MEMOIR OP THE 

every thing but goodness ? The sentiment of Burke is 
here completely reversed, and vice doubles its evil by los- 
ing all its grossness. — The embellishment of Paris still 
advances ; and it is said the Emperor has done more to 
adorn it in three years, than the house of Bourbon in 
the whole eighteenth century. By making Italy and 
Flanders tributary to his capital, he has formed a col- 
lection of paintings and statues, without rival in the 
world. He opens magnificent squares in places which 
were formerly crowded with dirty and narrow streets ; 
he renews public buildings which have decayed, or sup- 
plies their place with something still more splendid ; and 
if he should live twenty years longer, he will make Paris 
throughout one vast palace. Even if his fortune should 
be reversed, he has left such indelible traces of him- 
self, and connected them with so many monuments of 
elegance and taste, that they can never be effaced with- 
out mutilating the beauty of the city. 5? 

In the same letter, which is dated October 7th, he thus 
speaks of the health of Mr. Buckminster, who had then 
rejoined him. " When you next see Mr. L. after re- 
membering me to him with all possible gratitude and re- 
gard, tell him, that though I am unwilling prematurely 
to raise his hopes, yet I believe he may indulge very 
sanguine expectations of the complete recovery of Mr. 
Buckminster. He has returned from Switzerland, not 
merely in good, but in robust health ; and ever since his 
arrival on the Continent, and for a month before, he has 
had no return, nor symptom of a return, of his disorder/ 5 



KEV. b. C. THACHEK. xix 

And in another letter, dated December 20th, he says ; 
" The climate of France agrees wonderfully with Mr. 
B. who is in robust and uninterrupted health, although 
occasionally a little homesick. His greatest danger, at 
present, is of becoming bankrupt, from the number of 
books which he continues to buy. 5 ' These were grateful 
hopes, and such as would inspire a tone of gaiety ; but 
it is well known how mournfully they were disappointed. 

On account of the restraints imposed by the Berlin 
decree, the friends w^re obliged to remain in Paris much 
longer than they had intended ; and it was not till the 
February of 1807 that they were able to return to London. 

While in France, Mr. Thacher had felt himself re- 
strained from writing with freedom about politics or 
distinguished men because he knew that all his letters 
were inspected by the police, before they were permitted 
to leave the country. But once more in England, he 
could indulge himself in full epistolary liberty ; and in 
one of his letters from London he gives a lively descrip- 
tion of Bonaparte, whom he saw for a few moments at 
St. Cloud. It does not vary in its partiulars, from de- 
scriptions of his appearance which have been given to 
the public ; but every thing possesses a certain degree 
of interest, which relates to that fallen wonder of man- 
kind. 

" It was at morning mass, just before the present war 
was announced ; and from Ms wearied and unrefreshed 
countenance, I did not envy him the night he had been 
passing. He had the appearance of a man, exhausted 



XX MEMOIR OF THE 

by intensity of thought, and now vainly endeavouring to 
escape f rom the suhject of his meditations. He was per- 
petually restless and uneasy ; some part of his hody was 
in continual motion ; he was now swinging backward and 
forward, then drawing his hand over his forehead and 
face, and then taking snuff, with an air which evidently 
implied that lie was unconscious of the action. The 
whites of his eyes bear a much greater proportion to the 
coloured part than usual, and he makes them more re- 
markable by perpetually rolling th%m about. It is a 
very curious fact, that it is still a dispute what is their 
colour, and among the thousand pictures of him hung 
up in Paris, part make them blue, and part hazel or 
black. Upon the whole, however, he has a very fine 
countenance, and I must confess my opinion of his ca- 
pacity was heightened by observing the fine proportions 
which it displays." 

In August Mr. Thacher sailed with his friend from 
Liverpool, and in September arrived in Boston. Soon 
after his return he accepted the office of Li rarian of 
Harvard College, and entered on his duties in 1808. 

While abroad he still had continued his connexion 
with the Monthly Anthology, and preserved all his inte- 
rest in its success unabated. He now contributed to its 
pages some valuable articles, which will be noticed in an 
Appendix to this memoir. One of them, however, de- 
serves a particular mention here, on account of the at- 
tention which it excited when it first appeared, and the 
ability with which it is written. It was a review of The 



REV. 6. C. THACHER. XXL 

Constitution and Associate Statutes of the Theological Se- 
minary in dndover ; with a sketch of its Rise and Progress, 
Published by order of the Trustees, 1808. 

In the commencement of this piece, the reviewer ad- 
verts to the very low state in which critical and exege- 
tical theology then was in our country, and expresses a 
lively pleasure in the prospect of an establishment, 
where so lamentable a defect should be as far as possi- 
ble remedied, by instructing candidates for the ministry 
in the knowledge of that book which they were hereafter 
to expound to others. So long as the means of informa- 
tion are communicated, he regards the peculiar doctrinal 
opinions of the instructers as of little comparative im- 
portance. "We profess then," he says, "before we 
commence the review of this pamphlet, that we rejoice in 
the foundation of a Theological Academy at Andover ; 
we do not lament that it is directed by men, whose opi- 
nions differ from ours ; and our only inquiry will be, 
whether the principles, on which it is established, are 
such as in any degree to impair or destroy the good, 
which such an institution is calculated to effect." 

In prosecuting this inquiry, notice is first taken of the 
connexion between Phillips Academy and the Theological 
Institution ; and the reviewer goes on to show, that the 
donations of two distinct bodies of founders were de- 
signed in the first instance to support two different sys- 
tems of divinity, the Calmnistic and the Hopkinsian, and 
that those gentlemen who, after the coalition, drew up the 
** Associate Statutes," and the " Creed," had very 



Xxil MEM01R OF THE 

adroitly given the spirit and complexion of the latter 
scheme to their work, though they had avoided any ex- 
pression of difference so open and hostile, as to alarm or 
offend the friends of the former. This position he proves 
hy comparing the Creed, which he quotes at length, with 
the known principles of the two systems ahove mention- 
ed ; asserting, as the result of this comparison, " that 
the only article in which the Calvinists differ from the 
Hopkinsians is omitted, and that almost every important 
article, which the Hopkinsians add to Calvinism, is 
either expressed or strongly implied." The conclusion 
drawn from this circumstance is, as might he supposed, 
of a kind not the most favourable to the Theological In- 
stitution. 

He then proceeds to state, with great strength of ar- 
gument and language, his objections to the imposition of 
any creed whatever. The first is, that creeds " are 
founded on the assumption, that the essential doctrines 
of Christianity are not distinctly and explicitly expres- 
sed in the language of the volume which contains them." 
This, he says, the advocate of an imposed creed is oblig- 
ed to maintain in fact, though he dare not in words ; and 
he thus concludes his remarks on this head ; 6i As soon 
as you convince us, that a study of the scriptures will 
not certainly secure an honest man from fatal error, we 
shall either give up our faith in Christianity, or have re- 
course, not to you, but to the infallible judge at Rome, 
to direct us." 

His second objection to the use of creeds is, " that they 



REV". 8. C. TIIACIIER. XXlil 

are directed against the honest and conscientious, and 
operate as a temptation and premium to dishonesty." 
The third is founded on the constitution of the human 
mind, which renders a perfect conformity of opinion im- 
possible. The fourth is, that a right is assumed, by the 
imposition of creeds, " which it is the very essence of Pro- 
testantism to deny to any human being." The fifth and 
last relates particularly to the Andover Creed, and is 
chiefly directed against the provision which requires from 
the instructers the renewal of their signature every five 
years, and thus confines them with enduring chains. 

An answer to this review was published in the Pano- 
plist, a calvinistic magazine. It drew from Mr. 
Thacher a defence of his article, in which his former 
charges were vigorously supported and maintained. 
The following is the concluding paragraph. 

66 The whole object which induced us to enter into this 
unpleasant controversy has been attained. We were de- 
sirous of reminding those men, who were attacking our 
friends, invading the tranquillity of our churches, and at- 
tempting to revive the exploded absurdities of the dark 
ages, that the friends of rational and scriptural religion, 
though enemies of theological polemics, are not so, be- 
cause their antagonists have nothing vulnerable in their 
system. The charge which they bring, that we have 
been influenced in this affair by a desire of interrupting 
the harmony of two sects, who had agreed to forget 
their differences, will not be believed. We disdain the 
imputation. We attacked them, not because they are 



XX iv .MEMOIR OF THE 

Hopkinsians, and not because they are Calvinists, but 
because their conduct and their principles, we believe, 
all honest Calvinists and Hopkinsians ought to unite in 
condemning. The charges we have adduced and sup- 
ported are not to be thus evaded. It stands on record 
against this institution, and all the waters of the ocean 
can never wash out the stain, that it has been made 
what it is, by perverting the pious liberality of well 
meaning devotion, and sacrificing the first principles of 
Protestantism to the gratification of the unholy ambition 
of aspiring heresiarchs." 

This is strong language, and will appear particularly 
so to those who were acquainted with the gentle charac- 
ter of the writer, and knew how averse his spirit was to 
the spirit of controversy. But in this instance, as well 
as in some others which subsequently occurred, he felt it 
his duty to enter into an uncongenial warfare, and de- 
fend the great principles of truth and freedom. And 
who indeed, even if we put out of the question the curious 
circumstances attending the compound creed of the An- 
dover Institution, who is there, what truly rational and 
liberal man, whatever his doctrinal opinions may be, 
who will not exclaim with indignation against the de- 
mand of a repeated subscription to a long and minute 
list of disputed articles of faith ? And what consistent 
Protestant is there, of whatever denomination, who will 
not think it objection enough to a theological establish- 
ment that it should presume to speak in language like 
this : " It is strictly and solemnly enjoined, 



REV. S. C. THACHER. 



XXV 



AND LEFT IN SACRED CHARGE, THAT EVERY ARTICLE 
OF THE ABOVE CREED SHALL FOREVER REMAIN EN- 
TIRELY AND IDENTICALLY THE SAME, WITHOUT THE 
LEAST ALTERATION, ADDITION, OR DIMINUTION." 

Shall forever remain I Yes, on the records where 
you have inscribed them, on the paper where you have 
printed them, they may remain, for a memorial and a 
wonder; but for belief and reverence and instruction, 
who will undertake to say that they shall remain ; 
who will undertake to say, that in the course of one 
or two centuries they shall not be clean swept away 
from the human mind, into the region of outworn and 
neglected things ? It is really amazing to see with 
what complacency some men will tie together the poor 
shreds of their own conclusions, and then pretend to 
sound the unfathomable depths of futurity. 

The discharge of his duties as Librarian left Mr. 
Thacher ample time for the study of his profession. 
The library of which he had the care, especially rich as 
it is in the department of theology, furnished him with 
advantages of which he did not neglect to avail himself; 
and though when he began to preach, he was not gene^ 
rally pleasing in the pulpit, on account of some defect of 
voice and peculiarity of manner, yet the clearness and 
correctness of thought, the good sense, the pious feeling, 
and the chaste style, which his discourses exhibited, secur- 
ed for him the approbation of men of judgment and taste. 

On the third of November, 1810, the Rev. John T. 
Kirkland was inducted President of Harvard University ? 



XXVI MEMOIR OF THE 

and on this joyful occasion Mr. Thacher was appointed 
to deliver a congratulatory address in Latin. I had then 
just entered college, and I well remember the graceful 
appearance of the orator, and the praises which his per- 
formance received from all lips, for the propriety of its 
sentiments, and the elegance of its Latinity. I well re- 
member too, how universally he was esteemed, as a col- 
lege officer, by the students, who loved him for the 
mildness and urbanity, while they respected him for the 
firmness, of his character. 

But the time approached when he was to leave his 
employment at Cambridge for a sphere of higher and 
more arduous duties. The society of the New South 
Church, of which President Kirkland had been the mi- 
nister, was now of course destitute ; and Mr. Thacher, 
after preaching before them for a few weeks, was invited 
to supply their loss. He accepted the call, and was or- 
dained their pastor on the 15th of May, 1811. 

It has long been, and still is, the custom in our 
churches, for the pastor elect to read a creed, or make 
some profession of his faith, to the ordaining council, 
before the services of ordination commence. For some 
time, however, it has been generally understood by those 
of liberal sentiments, that the ordaining council is as- 
sembled for the purposes of sanction and christian fel- 
lowship, rather than of authority, and therefore that the 
creed which is read to them is not a demanded, but a 
voluntary exhibition of religious belief. It is allowed 
to be proper that the council should become in some 



REV. S. C. THACHER. XXVI! 

measure acquainted, in a formal way, with the opinions 
of the person, whose entrance on the christian ministry 
they have met to welcome and approve ; hut that is all ; 
if they are not pleased with the character of his belief, 
they may refuse their concurrence in his ordination, and 
protest against it, and disperse ; hut they have not the least 
power to deprive the congregation of the object of their 
choice ; of him, whom that choice alone is sufficient to 
constitute their minister. This principle it would be al- 
most unnecessary to advance at the present day ; but as 
it was not perhaps so fully conceded among us at the 
time of which I am speaking, it was thus decidedly im- 
plied in the beginning of the profession which Mr. 
Thacher read to the council which ordained him. " A 
belief of the principles of natural religion, and a general 
acceptance of the truths of Christianity, are implied in 
the appearance of any one, who is believed to have any 
sense of integrity, before this venerable council, to re- 
ceive their approbation and blessing as a minister of 
Christ. If there should be any doubt of his sincerity, no 
profession, however ample, would avail to entitle him to 
confidence and credit. The object therefore of the pro- 
fession which I am now called on to make, is, I presume, 
to determine whether the general views which I have 
taken of the gospel, will encourage the hope, that under 
the blessing of God, the cause of Christ will not suffer 
in my hands." He then expresses his belief in the being 
and attributes of God ; in the Scriptures as his revealed 
word j and in Jesus Christ as his well beloved Son $ and 



XXvii MEMOIR OF THE 

concludes with the following scriptural, catholic, and ra- 
tional view, of the objects and terms of christian com- 
munion. 66 It may not be superfluous to add, that I re- 
gard a credible profession of faith in Jesus Christ as tJie 
Messiah — a proposition rendered credible by such demon- 
strations of repentance and obedience as in the judgment 
of charity may evince sincerity — as the only term of 
Christian communion, which the scriptures authorize 
me to require ; and of consequence that I embrace every 
one who professes this faith, as a friend and brother in 
the Lord." 

Mr. Thacher commenced his pastoral duties with the 
interest and zeal of one who is deeply convinced of their 
importance, and of the obligations which he is under to 
discharge them faithfully. He now lived only for his 
people, and directed all his exertions to the promotion of 
their good. He won their hearts by the affectionate 
friendliness of his manners, satisfied their minds by his 
lucid expositions of gospel truth, participated in their 
joys as if they were his own, and led them in their sor- 
rows to the sources of all consolation. He realized the 
highest conception of a good pastor ; giving himself to 
reading, to exhortation, to instruction ; gentle unto all 
men ; and an example to the believers, in conversation, 
in spirit, in faith, in purity. 

But very soon a melancholy cloud rose up, and threw 
its shade over the morning prospect of his usefulness. 
He was not gifted with a constitution sufficiently vigor- 
ous to support, him for any length of time, under the 



REV* S. C. THACHER. Xxix 

manifold labours of his profession ; and in the spring of 
the year after his settlement, lie found it necessary to take 
a journey, for the benefit of his declining health. In the 
month of April he left Boston,* travelled through Wor- 
cester and Hartford to New Haven, and thence to New- 
York. From this place he took the steamboat to Alba- 
ny, and continued his journey to Saratoga Springs. A 
free use of the waters was so beneficial to him, that after 
remaining there for some days, he set out on his return 
to Boston, with renewed strength and hopes. But the 
heat of the weather, and the fatigue of riding, proved 
excessively injurious to his weak frame. On the morn- 
ing after arriving at Worcester, he was attacked with a 
raising of blood from the lungs, which immediately re- 
duced him to a state of extreme debility. 

This attack confined him in Worcester nearly a month ; 
and when at last he resumed his journey, he could only 
travel at the rate of a very few miles a day. He did 
not return at once to Boston, but was detained by the 
hospitality of Gorham Parsons, Esq. at the neighbouring 
village of Brighton ; where every attention and comfort 
was ministered to him, which his situation could require, 
or kindness could suggest. Here he gradually recover- 
ed, so far as to believe himself able to recommence his mi- 
nisterial duties in November. A few extracts from the 
first sermon which he preached, on again addressing his 
society from the pulpit, will give some idea of his charac- 
ter and feelings, and cannot be otherwise than accept a- 
E 



^XX MEMOIR OF THE 

ble to the friends who heard, and who will doubtless re. 
collect them. 

The title of the sermon was, On recovery from dan- 
gerous sickness ; and its subject, the duties of the sick. 
The following notice of his own situation, toward the 
commencement of the discourse, must have sunk deeply 
into the hearts of his hearers. 

" Brought by the goodness of God from the borders of 
the grave, I cannot better use the strength which is re- 
stored to me, than by endeavouring to gather instruction 
for you, as well as myself, from the scene through which 
I have passed. And if by this experience I should be 
enabled to suggest any considerations with regard to the 
duties of the sick, which may contribute to make any of 
you prepared for the hour of trial, I shall think that 
much greater danger and pain would not have been too 
dear a price for such a privilege."—" I propose to speak 
of the duties of those who are assailed by painful and 
lingering sickness ; whose powers of exertion are im- 
paired, but not destroyed ; to whom a breathing time, as 
it were, is allotted, between the summons and the exe- 
cution of that sentence, which is upon the life of us all-- 
over whom 

Death his dart 
Shakes, but delays to strike." 

The conclusion of the sermon is so affecting and elo- 
quent, that I need offer no apology for presenting it 
entire. 



RFA. S. C. THACHER. \\V. 

" The last duty to which 1 liave either time or strength 
to call your attention, is the duty of complete trust in God, 
and resignation to his will. And here, my friends, is the 
reward, the triumph, of a life of religion. The time to 
try the value of the maxims on which our lives have been 
formed, is the hour of severe sickness. The animating 
bustle and contentions of life no longer engage our 
attention ; our ambitious hopes are over ; the sound of 
fame grows dull to the ear ; the voice of flattery no lon- 
ger soothes us, and " all the worshipped pageantry" of 
pride is fled from before our eyes. Then it is that we 
fall back on the resources of our own minds. The world 
deserts us, and we feel, as it were, alone in the universe 
with our God. How miserable is that man, who feels 
himself for the first time in this dread society ; whose 
life has been past in shaking off the thought of futurity, 
till the voice of death now forces it in thunder on his 
ears ! How blest is he, whose life has been made a 
scene of preparation for such an hour ; spent in habitual 
communion with his God. in humble desires to gain his 
approbation, and in forming himself for that pure socie- 
ty to which death is about to introduce him : and who, 
now that flesh and heart fail him, can stretch his feeble 
hand, and lift his languid eye to heaven, and say, " God 
is the strengtli of my heart, and my portion forever." 

" Such, my friends, is an imperfect outline of some of 
the most obvious duties of the sick. You, I am suit, 
will not consider it as intended for an exhibition of what 
I have myself performed, but merely as an illustration 



xxxii mkmoik of thl 

of the a icws and feelings which every Christian, under 
such circumstances, would desire to cherish. The trial 
through which the goodness of God has carried me has 
not been the most severe ; and it has been lightened, be- 
lieve me, very greatly, by your sympathy and kindness. 
I fear I must still have to ask a continuance of your in- 
dulgence 5 but I shall always endeavour to feel that such 
powers of usefulness as I can command, are altogether 
yours. Indeed I have learned nothing from this visita- 
tion, if I have failed to be impressed with the necessity 
of using my utmost diligence in performing the work 
which is given me to do. If I needed another admoni- 
tion, I am furnished with it, while I write, when I find 
the lips of him* who charged me to be faithful to you, 
closed forever, and himself called into the presence of 
his God, to give an account of his own stewardship. 
AVhat then remains for me, what remains for us all, but 
to endeavour to fill up the various duties of life with 
fidelity, and in the fear of God ? Let us defer nothing 
which Heaven enables us now to perform. Let us guard 
against the fatal belief, that by a few formalities at the 
close of life, we can atone for habitual and presumptuous 
vices. Believe me, we deceive ourselves. It is the righ- 
teous man alone, who can have peace in death. And 
he can pass through the dark shadow of its valley, and 
fear no evil ; for the rod and the staff of the Almighty, 
they shall comfort and sustain him." 



* His uncle, the Rev. Mr. Tharher. of Pedharo, 



REV. S. C. THACHEK. XXX11I 

While Mr. Thacher was absent on his journey, he met 
with a severe trial in the death of Mr. Buckminster, Ms 
fellow-traveller in foreign lands, his brother in the mi- 
nistry, his friend. His feelings prompted him to pay a 
tribute to the memory of one so dear to him, by giving 
to the public an account of his life and character ; and 
his intimate acquaintance with the deceased, and know- 
ledge of his principles and habits, perfectly qualified him 
for the duty. The memoir of Mr. Buckminster, which 
has been prefixed to each of the three editions of his 
sermons, is from the pen of Mr. Thacher. It is univer- 
sally regarded, I believe, as an interesting and well 
written piece of biography ; but as the volume which 
contains it has deservedly commanded an extensive cir- 
culation, I shall content myself with the present reference 
merely. 

An event, which can be expected to occur but seldom, 
called from Mr. Thacher a discourse, which, both on 
account of the novelty of the subject, and the ingenuity 
with which it is treated, will be read perhaps with as much 
pleasure as any one in the following collection. The 
old meeting house in Summer Street, which was built 
of wood, and had stood nearly a hundred years, was in 
so decayed a state, that the Society determined to take 
it down, and raise a new one of stone, in its place. On 
the 13th of March, 1814, their pastor preached the last 
sermon from that pulpit, which had witnessed the labours 
of all his predecessors ; and he seized the opportunity 
of enforcing considerations in themselves truly affecting;. 



XXXI V MEMOIR OF THE 

and rendered doubly so by the circumstances of the 
occasion. 

The new house was dedicated the same year, on the 
29th of December. The sermon which Mr. Thacher 
preached on this occasion was soon afterward published.* 
It became a general topic of conversation ; and while by 
one portion of readers it was praised as an able and 
lucid exposition of liberal and intelligible Christianity, 
and a calm and manly defence of those who had embraced 
such a faith, it was denounced by another portion as 
advancing principles, subversive of what they called the 
peculiar and fundamental doctrines of the Gospel. The 
weak were alarmed at they knew not what ; the bigoted 
were surprised at the avowal of nonconformity; the 
cautious shook their heads, and intimated their doubts ; 
while they who had observed the signs of the times, 
and who knew what they believed, rejoiced that the 
time had arrived, when religious opinions could be fairly 
and openly discussed, when reason was to be permitted 
to come out into the light, and men could maintain thai 
their minds were their own. 

If there is any fault to be found with this discourse, it 
is that it speaks rather too much in the tone of apology 
and confession. But this was to be expected from the ex- 
isting state of the public mind, and from the untried and 
delicate situation in which the preacher stood. But no 

*This is the only sermon which Mr. Thacher ever printed. It stands 
the last in this collection. 



REV. S. C. THACHEK. XXXV 

one, certainly, can read it without perceiving the firm 
conviction of truth which it every where displays, and 
the resolution not to yield a single fragment of any one 
great principle asserted. It would conciliate, hut with- 
out the least compromise of helief. 

Still it must be allowed that a few expressions in the 
discourse had better been omitted. Such, for example, 
is the one contained in the following passage ; 66 There 
exist — it is but too well known — among the different com- 
munities of christians, some peculiar modes of regarding 
the truths of the gospel ; and it is fitting, according to the 
spirit of our text, that we should be ready to justify these 
modes of thinking to our fellow-believers." — How is it 
possible, it may be said, that this could be too well 
known ? If these peculiarities of opinion existed, they 
ought to have been known. It was best for all sides that 
they should be known ; and that an end should be put to 
a state of things which was an improper, a disagreeable, 
and, from its nature, a temporary one. The time may be 
easily remembered, when in our religious world, there 
was nothing but distrust on the one side, and fear and 
evasion on the other ; when the self-conceited theologue 
looked awry on the suspected heretic, and the object of 
his suspicion answered him with circumlocution and 
hesitation. There is no denying that this was the fact. 
And how much better is it that there has been a change, 
and that we can now use language, as it was meant to 
be used, for the expression of ideas. And again, it may 
be asked, how is truth ever to be known, if her face is 



XXXT1 MEMOIR OF THE 

always to be kept under a veil ? How are we to expect 
that our opinions are to be received, or respected, if they 
are studiously thrust aside, and into the shade, as if we 
were ashamed of them ? Nothing is to be lost, in this 
country at least, and every thing is to be hoped, from 
fair discussion. " Though all the winds of doctrine/* 
says Milton, " were let loose to play upon the earth, so 
truth be in the field, we do injuriously to misdoubt her 
strength. Let her and falsehood grapple ! who ever 
knew truth put to the worse in a free and open encoun- 
ter V 9 If we are convinced that our opinions are well 
grounded and important, we really do not pay them a 
proper regard, nor do justice to the decisions of our own 
minds, by deprecating discovery and examination. 

If it be said that the spirit of contention is unhallowed, 
and that ignorance is better than ill will ; it is readily 
granted. But cannot knowledge and charity walk to- 
gether, and kindness accompany discussion ? If they 
cannot, it were happy for us if we could neither think 
nor feel. But surely there is nothing~impossible in this 
union. It has been, and may always be effected ; and 
perfect love will cast out fear. 

Entertaining these sentiments, I am certain that if 
Mr. Thacher had been aware of all that was implied in 
the few words which have been noticed, he would never 
have used them ; for they hardly comport with the spirit 
of firmness which marks the discourse, nor indeed with 
the circumstance of his public avowal of liberal opinions, 
without being called on to do so except by his own con- 



REV. S. C. THACHER. XXXV 11 

victions of propriety and right. The expression was 
evidently suggested by Ms ardent desire of peace, and 
his strong aversion to pulpit controversy, and theological 
discord. If he were now alive, he would doubtless be 
among the first to acknowledge that his apprehensions 
were groundless. For what has been the consequence 
of that mutual knowledge of opinion existing among us, 
and of that change in the state of things, which, I feel 
authorized in saying, and I say it to his praise, he him- 
self was one of the most active in bringing about ? Has 
knowledge produced strife ; or is it pouring forth per- 
petual controversy from our pulpits into the ears of an 
inflamed or a wearied audience ? Should a stranger go 
into one of our churches in Boston, with the expectation 
of hearing peculiar doctrines handled, would he not be 
disappointed ? Would he not be disappointed, Sabbath 
after Sabbath ? And yet it is as well known of what 
sentiments our clergymen are, as in what churches they 
respectively minister. What condition can be happier 
than this ? The pure and purifying morality of the 
gospel is preached as constantly as before ; while the 
preacher is no longer troubled with surmises, cross- 
questionings and alarms. Every thing is known, and 
vain terrors have ceased. We still follow our inclina- 
tion and conviction, in inculcating the precepts of Jesus ; 
but without having it now objected to us, even by members 
of our own congregations, that we are preaching mere 
morality. 

With an exception or two of this kind, which at the 
r 



XXXV111 MEMOIR OF THE 

most, should be termed mere inadvertences, the Dedica- 
tion Sermon must be pronounced an excellent perfor- 
mance, admirably adapted to its purpose and to the 
occasion, and triumphant in its calm but powerful de- 
fence of the liberal principles of Christianity. It must 
be regarded too as one of the chief causes which operated 
in bringing on the well known Unitarian Controversy, 
which was soon after conducted with so much spirit and 
effect in this part of the country. 

The sentiments of our liberal clergy had been for a 
long time understood, though partially and with a distort- 
ed apprehension, by their orthodox brethren ; who only 
waited for a favourable opportunity to communicate, in 
one awful disclosure, their knowledge, their alarms, and 
their horror to the people. Such an opportunity was 
furnished them about this time by the Rev. Mr. Belsham 
of London, who in his Life of Lindsey had devoted a 
chapter to the history of American Unitarianism. This 
chapter was republished in Boston, with a short preface ; 
and the pamphlet thus formed was soon after reviewed in 
an article in thePanoplist, which was written in a style of 
constant high colouring, and contained falsehoods which 
few would commit themselves by advancing at the pre- 
sent time. Take for example the following extract. 

" From a great variety of anonymous publications it 
has been evident, that the defection had proceeded in the 
downward course to the lowest degrees of Socinianism, 
and to the borders of open infidelity. Further than 
this ; — it has not been in a few solitary instances only, that 



REV. S. C. THACHER. XXxix 

persons, who have been near the centre of all these ope- 
rations, have heard from the pulpit both sermons and 
prayers, which neither expressed nor implied any thing 
more than sober Deism, and which were totally at va- 
riance with the Gospel." 

It is not, perhaps, easy, now to ascertain with exactness 
the result which was expected from this explosion. But 
it is quite probable that the most sanguine among those 
who had prepared the train and applied the mat-] 
hoped that it would tearobjects of their attack from 
the affections and the support of their people. But it 
they did look for such an event, they were disappoint 
ed. Some excitement and trouble were produced at first, 
to be sure ; but the atmosphere soon cleared up, the agi- 
tation subsided, and the liberal clergy of Boston conti- 
nued to preach, and their congregations continued to 
hear, a gospel of reason, righteousness, purity, hope, 
promise and peace. 

The reply which was made to the aspersions of the 
Panoplist by the Rev. Dr. Channing, was published in 
the form of a letter to Mr. Thacher. It was dated June 
20th, 1815, and was the commencement of the contro- 
versy between Dr. Channing and the Rev. Dr. Worces- 
ter of Salem. 

There was one duty remaining, with regard to the 
explanation of his sentiments, which Mr. Thacher 
now thought himself required to discharge. In his de- 
dication sermon he had given a general statement only 
of the principles of liberal Christianity. But soon after 



t 



xl MEMOIR OF THE 

the appearance of the review in the Panoplist, which I 
have just noticed, he preached a discourse to his people 
on the great doctrine of the personal Unity of God.* 
He did not attempt to enter into a full discussion of the 
subject ; as that was not his purpose in presenting it to 
his hearers. His design was simply to state to them 
what the doctrine of the Trinity was, and how irrecon- 
cilable it appeared, in his mind, to the doctrine, so 
plainly revealed and so forcibly inculcated in the scrip- 
tures, of the unity of the Divine Nature ; how slender, 
beside, the support was which it derived from the Bible, 
and how expressly it was contradicted by the instruc- 
tions, the prayers, and the conduct of our Saviour. 
We must, not, therefore, read this sermon with the ex- 
pectation of meeting with elaborate argument, or sys- 
tematic arrangement; but the animation, the feeling, 
and the direct scriptural evidence, which are to be found 
in it, will amply reward a perusal. 

It required no little moral courage, at that time, to 
treat such a subject from the pulpit. The preacher 
was listened to with eager and intense interest, and 
his sentiments were almost unanimously approved by the 
members of his society. 

A manuscript copy of this discourse was sent to Li- 
verpool, where it was so much admired that it was print- 
ed, though without the knowledge of the author. It was 



Numbered xix. in this collection 



REV. S. C. THACHER. \ll 

afterward reprinted here, and is, I believe, the first ser- 
mon on the Unity of God which was ever published in 
Boston. 

This avowal of his opinions did not terminate Mr. 
Thacher's exertions in the cause of rational Christiani- 
ty. In the same year he superintended the Boston edi- 
tion of Yates' Vindication of Unitarianism ; to which 
he added several notes, and subjoined an excellent Dis- 
sertation* on the kind and degree of evidence which are 
necessary to establish the doctrine of the Trinity, and 
by which we might expect to see it supported in the 
scriptures. 

But his useful labours were again broken off ; and the 
connexion with his people, which was becoming every day 
more intimate and important, was doomed to be suspend- 
ed, and after a succession of anxious hopes and fears, at 
last to be dissolved. 

In the autumn of 1815, he was severely visited by a 
return of hemorrhage from the lungs. He remained in 
a very feeble state through the winter and spring ; and 
it was then determined by his physicians that he should 
take a voyage to Europe, as the most likely means of 
his restoration to health. On this advice being commu- 
nicated to him, he addressed a letter to the members of 
his society, dated July 28, 1816, in which their concur- 
rence in the measure was requested. This was granted 



* Inserted at the end of this volume. 



Xlu MEMOIR OF THE 

by the Society, together with the requisite means of de- 
fraying his expences abroad, with an affectionate readi- 
ness, which manifested that any step which might be 
thought conducive to their pastor's recovery, was pre- 
cisely the one that they desired to see adopted. 

In August, Mr. Thacher once more bade farewell to 
his home ; not, as on the former occasion, for the purpose 
of watching over the health of a friend, but with the 
hope of recovering his own. And few have gone down 
to the sea followed by so many affectionate regrets, and 
so many fervent prayers. 

In September he arrived in Liverpool, after a plea- 
sant voyage, and with improved health. During his 
short stay in that city he was made an inmate in the fa- 
mily of J. R. Freme, Esq. « Of their kindness," he 
says, " I speak as highly as it is possible to speak, when 
I say that it resembled that to which I had been accus- 
tomed from my friends at home." Mr. Thacher was 
neither the first nor the last American, who experienced 
their cordial and heart touching hospitality. 

In his journey from Liverpool to London, he viewed 
with unabated delight the surpassing beauties of En- 
glish scenery ; and after an interval of ten years, was 
well pleased to recognize its peculiar features, and see 
" the picture of the mind revived again." 

"On my arrival in London," he says in one of his 
letters, " I immediately applied to a physician ; chiefly 
however for his advice as to the place in which I shall 
pass the winter. He very properly requires a longer 



REV. S. C. THACHER. xlill 

time before he expresses an opinion of the circumstances 
of my case, and advises me to pass a week or two in 
London and its vicinity, making inquiries as to different 
spots, which he mentions, without instantly deciding on 
which to choose. Here then I am, in this vast metropo- 
lis, with the map of the wide world spread before me, 
and seeking some spot to which I may direct my solita- 
ry steps. Yet I assure you, that though a melancholy 
feeling will now and then find its way into my heart, I 
am habitually cheerful ; for I regard myself as in the 
path of my duty." 

The physicians whom he consulted in London were 
Dr. Baillie, physician to the King, and Dr. Wells. 
They united in assuring him, that in their opinion, no 
disease had fixed itself on his lungs, and that the re- 
sources of his constitution were not wasted ; but still 
that a powerful tendency to morbid affection existed, 
which was most effectually to be checked in a climate 
different from that in which it had originated. 

The place which at length was selected for his win- 
ter's residence, was not such a one as his inclinations 
would have chosen ; for though it bore a name of pro- 
mise, it was far removed, not only from his friends, but 
from the civilized portions of the world. " I am on the 
point of embarking," he writes, under the date of Octo- 
ber the 18th, " for the Cape of Good Hope. I am led to 
this measure, by finding the opinions of the most eminent 
physicians here coincide with that of Dr. Jackson, and 
my other medical friends at home. Of course it would 



xllV MEMOIR OF THE 

have been more pleasing to me to have been recommend- 
ed to some spot less distant from you all. But as I 
came abroad, not for pleasure or curiosity, but in order, 
by God's blessing, to regain the ability of being useful, 
I am bound to take that course which shall seem to lead 
most directly to this object." " And after all," he says, 
in a letter to another friend, "a few thousand miles 
make no great difference, when one is already so far 
from home. The great effort was to leave you at all. 
That being done, every thing else is comparatively 
easy." 

The following letter to his elder brother contains an 
account of his voyage and arrival at the Cape. 

" Cape Town, Jan. 2, 1817. 

"Mi dear Brother, 

" I have at length the pleasure of writing to you 
from the Cape of Good Hope, where we arrived safely 
two days since. When it came to the point of leaving 
England, I found it a greater trial of my feelings than I 
expected. The probability of a long and tedious pas- 
sage ; my entire ignorance of the persons who were to 
be my companions ; the possibility of extreme sickness 
among total strangers ; together with the vague notions 
of dreariness and barbarism, which were associated in 
my mind with the idea of Africa ; all these things con- 
spired to give me a momentary depression of spirits, to 
which I had before been a stranger ; and when I receiv- 
ed the last kind pressure of Mr. Williams' hand, on 



REV. S. C. THACHER. xlv 

leaving London, I found it hard to command my feel- 
ings. 

" But every thing has heen better, much better than 
I expected. My fellow passengers were civil to me from 
the first, and after a little time became particularly 
friendly and attentive. Our weather, especially on this 
side the line, was uncommonly good ; and we made the 
gigantic elevation of the rock which forms Table Moun- 
tain, in sixty-five days from the Downs, without a sin- 
gle accident or danger. At the foot of the precipice 
which terminates the mountain on the south side, lies 
the little town from which I write to you. It is in the 
Dutch taste, very regular, very clean, and its whole as- 
pect comfortable as well as pretty. The inhabitants are 
celebrated for hospitality; but your friends, Mr. and 
Mrs. Ross, are more than hospitable. They domesticate 
me in one of the pleasantest families I have ever met 
with from home, uniting all that is most agreeable in 
the English and Dutch characters. They remember 
Boston with great regard, and are always speaking of 
your kindness. So you see it is ; the same good Provi- 
dence which has protected me so long and so far, raises 
for me friends in a corner of the world where I could 
least expect to find them. My continual p ayer is for a 
grateful and confiding spirit. 

" As far as I can judge, the improvement of my health 
promises to compensate me for the toils of so long a 
voyage. A shortness of breath, which I felt in America, 
and which followed me to London, disappeared at sea. 

G 



xlvi MEMOIR OF THE 

My cough, if I do not deceive myself, (Dr. Jackson will 
understand that parenthesis,) is seldom more, and often 
less, than it was before my last attack. In short, if the 
climate of this country agree with me as well as it has 
hitherto, I do not doubt that, with the blessing of God, 
I may return to you in as good a state of health as I 
had in 1813 and 14. For myself I ask no more of 
heaven than to be restored to the ability of once more 
labouring in that beloved spot where my lot is cast. 

** I propose to remove in a few days to Stellenbosch, a 
village about twenty-five miles distant, which is describ- 
ed as one of the most beautiful residences in the world. 
If I am prospered, I shall hope to embark for England 
in April, and thence to turn my face towards my dear 
native home." 

The reason given by Mr. Thacher, in another letter, 
for not remaining at Cape Town, is, that it is subject to 
a south-east wind of the most unpleasant kind, which 
pours over the Table Mountain in hot gusts of such 
violence, as to fill the streets with dust, and oblige the 
inhabitants to shut themselves up in their houses. In a 
few days after his arrival, he removed to the above nam- 
ed village of Stellenbosch, and lived there till his depar- 
ture for England. 

The two following letters, which I have been kindly 
permitted to publish, will be valued not only as lively 
descriptions of the place of refuge to which he had fled 
from the pursuit of winter, and of his own situation and 



REV. S. C. THACHER. 



xlvii 



employments there, but as pleasing specimens of his 
style of epistolary writing. The first of these is to his 
only sister. 

« Stellenbosch, Cape of Good Hope, Feb. 10, 1817. 

" As I cannot but flatter myself that the most affec- 
tionate of sisters sometimes employs herself in thinking 
of the situation of her exiled brother, I am going to try 
to give an idea of where he is, what he is doing, how lie 
looks, how he feels, and what are his plans. What 
would I not give at this moment, for a similar account 
of yourself and all those dear friends I have left behind 
me. 

" Send then your imagination across the waters, many 
thousands of miles, to another hemisphere, a different 
climate, and a far different race of men. You will see, 
stretching far into the Southern Ocean, the land where 
he is ; a land, not of any classic or romantic recollec- 
tions, but always esteemed a land of barbarism and bar- 
renness — the fit habitation of the lion, the serpent and 
the tiger, of the sooty Ethiop, the wild Caffre, and the 
yellow Hottentot. At first view, it will seem to you to 
present nothing but bare and bleak mountains of im- 
mense height and frightful steepness, or else plains of 
sand to which the eye sees no limit, and which are for- 
ever heated by the rays of a blazing sun. But a nearer 
view will show you that Providence has prepared even 
here scenes of comfort and peace, and even of beauty 
and enjoyment. The vallies between the mountains are 



xlviil MEMOIR OF THE 

all fertile. Wherever you find a drop of water, there is 
verdure. 

« If, therefore, you cast your eye nearly east from Cape 
Town about twenty -five miles, you will see, at the foot 
of the first great chain of mountains, a little village of 
perhaps two hundred white houses, peeping from among 
the green trees. Here you will find fruits of the most 
delicious flavour and in the greatest profusion. The air 
is the driest and purest you can imagine. The valley is 
surrounded by mountains of the most singular forms, 
which are so disposed as to furnish you some very ro- 
mantic and agreeable rides. If you are in search of 
peace and solitude, there is not a spot on the globe where 
you will find them in greater perfection. Here it is that 
you will discover your wandering brother. You will 
see him moving about in his grey frock-coat and white 
underdress, looking very comfortable, it is true, but very 
little like a minister. His face is beaten and blackened 
by long exposure ; and an African sun bids fair to throw 
over it that peculiar tinge of yellow, which you may 
sometimes have seen in a mulatto who is not very dark. 
He is not over corpulent, though of quite tolerable di- 
mensions. He lodges in an admirable house, where he 
has every comfort. As the inhabitants are all Dutch, he 
has not much society ; not knowing a word of their me- 
lodious and classical language. He is in a fair way 
therefore to improve his talents for taciturnity. Not 
however that he is destitute of company ; for very hap- 
pily the clergyman of the place, and all his family, speak 



REV. S. C. THACHER. xlix 

English very weft. This divine is a man of great piety 
and benevolence, of excellent sense, and is truly liberal 
in all his opinions. He takes great delight in a fine gar- 
den, which he cultivates himself with great skill. At 
the foot of it runs a little river, perfectly clear, and al- 
ways murmuring over its stony channel. The banks of 
this stream are covered with a fine grove of trees, plant- 
ed by Mr. Borcherd's own hand. He has made a little 
arbour, which is always shady and cool, surrounded by 
myrtles and wild flowers, and trees overrun with the 
passion-flower, which here grows with a stem of the 
thickness of my arm. Here he has placed seats, on 
which he sits and chats with your brother by the hour \ 
they neither of them being romantic enough to be inter- 
rupted by the turtle doves and other birds, which are 
singing in the branches over their heads. This same 
good man has several pretty and lively daughters ; but it 
is not to be supposed that they make any part of the at- 
traction which draws so grave a person as your brother 
so often to the parsonage. 

" His mode of passing his time is as regular as it was 
at home. He gets up pretty early in the morning for a 
walk before breakfast; then reads a little or writes a 
little, till eleven or twelve ; then pays a visit to Mr. B or- 
chard's, and gets a walk or a ride before dinner. In the 
afternoon he walks or rides again ; and after passing a 
quiet evening, always at home, goes to bed at ten. He 
is generally quite cheerful and contented ; but it is said 
that there are some moments, when he is thinking of 



1 MEMOIR OF THE 

home and the best and most beloved of friends, in which 
he has a little of that sickness of heart which hope defer- 
red will sometimes give. But this is momentary ; for he 
must be the most ungrateful of men to distrust that good 
Providence which has so signally protected him, so 
much improved his health, so smoothed the path of his 
wanderings, raised him up friends wherever he has been, 
and crowned him with loving kindness and tender mercy. 

"Thus, my dear sister, I have endeavoured to give 
you an idea of where and how I am. It is now nearly 
six months since I have received a line from home ; a 
long, long interval to one who places so much of his 
earthly happiness there. I do not attribute this however 
to the negligence of my friends, but to the distance at 
which I am removed from them. I anticipate with de- 
light the period when this distance will begin to lessen. 
After the first of April I hope to embark for England, 
and to be permitted to reach home by the beginning of 
autumn. With this hope I will solace myself. Adieu. 
My prayers never cease to ascend for your happiness 
here and hereafter. 

" Your affectionate brother, 

" Samuel C. Thacher." 

The other letter is addressed to a lady of his society. 
It is written from the same village, and bears the date 
of the 1st of March. 



REV. S. C. THACHER. ll 

a I fear I must have seemed very ungrateful to my 
most constant and excellent friend, in suffering so long 
an interval to pass without thanking her for her letter. 
And yet I have been so long accustomed to have the 
kindest constructions put upon my actions at your house, 
that I am not without hope that my silence has been im- 
puted to what is indeed its true cause, my inability to do 
better. The time I passed in London was full of solici- 
tude and hurry, which scarcely left me leisure for my in- 
dispensable duties. On arriving at the Cape, I was im- 
mediately obliged to fly from the sirocco winds of the 
town to this little village, where we hear from the bay 
only once a week. Opportunities of writing have often 
occurred and passed without my knowledge ; and I now 
begin this letter without knowing when it will be sent. 
And if with all these reasons there was mingled something 
of the self-indulgence of a spoiled valetudinarian, you well 
know where I learned to claim such privileges ; and I 
also know where there is charity enough to forgive me. 

" I wish I could find any thing around me interesting 
enough to repay you for the pleasure I received from 
your letter. But the truth is, there is scarcely a spot on 
the globe more barren, both in a moral and physical 
view, than all I have yet seen of this part of South Afri- 
ca. There is nothing classical, no monuments of anti- 
quity, no model of the fine arts, and so little of letters, 
that a book shop is a thing unknown throughout the co- 
lony. Man, too, is here found in his most degraded form. 
Some of my speculations on the dignity of our species 



Hi MEMOIR OP THE 

have never received so severe a rebuke, as when I look 
in the face of a Hottentot or a Bosjesman. Not that I 
do not find means to get over this difficulty ; for he must 
be but a poor theorist — I think I hear your father say 
it — who abandons his fancies for so trifling a cause as 
mere matters of fact. 

"There is nothing interesting here but the appear- 
ances of nature ; and these are just what it is impossible 
to convey any idea of in a letter. Apparently, this is 
one of the confines of the solid globe ; and the mountains? 
which are thrown up as bulwarks against the ocean, 
are immense masses of rock, cast in the most abrupt 
and rugged forms. There is no such thing in any 
part of the country that I have seen, as what we should 
call in New England a beautiful landscape. You may 
sometimes find in the vallies a few verdant and fertile 
spots, which afford a refreshing contrast to the bare sum- 
mits and sterile sides of the mountains which surround 
them. A botanist would find a perpetual feast ; but, un- 
fortunately, I with my blind eyes am none. I am struck 
however with seeing many shrubs, which at home are 
raised with difficulty and care, growing here spontane- 
ously in the open air. The habits of these plants are in 
other respects different from those of the cultivated ones. 
A geranium, which at home will scarcely bear the touch, 
I should find it difficult to crush here with a strong blow 
of my foot ; and the myrtle, so delicate with us, is here 
growing in lofty hedges so strong as to be impenetrable 
to cattle. Their flowers however are not nearly so beau- 




REV. S. C. THACHER. liii 

tiful nor so fragrant as they are in a state of cultivation ; 
just as it is with the mind, which shoots more vigourous- 
ly when left to itself, hut loses in delicacy and refine- 
ment, what it gains in hardihood and force. 

" The Cape is a great resort for invalids from India, 
many of whom I see, and find several of them very in- 
telligent and agreeable. I never before was so impress- 
ed with the value and magnitude of the British empire 
there. How much shall I delight to ask your father 
some questions on this subject ; if the inestimable privi- 
lege is accorded me of again making one of your domes- 
tic circle. The Count Las Cases, the friend of Bona- 
parte, is here. His constant theme is his master, whom 
he represents as the most amiable of men, instead of that 
monster of cruelty he has commonly been taken for. 
The Count, you will probably have heard, was sent from 
St. Helena for attempting to send to Europe a letter in 
cipher. It may be news to you that the British have 
taken possession of the Island of Tristan d' Acunha, and 
fortified it, with the avowed purpose of preventing our 
vessels from using it in another war. So it seems agreed 
on all hands that we must look forward to future con- 
tests." 

This letter was the last, I believe, which Mr. Thacher 
wrote from the Cape. It is stated in some of his subse- 
quent ones, that his health did not improve so much dur- 
ing the latter part of his residence there, as his feelings 
at an earlier period had led him to expect ; and this is 

H 



llV MEMOIR OF THE 

attributed to his not being permitted by the climate to 
take that regular exercise, to which he had been accus- 
tomed, and which was absolutely necessary to him. He 
thought on the whole, however, that he left the Cape with 
amended health. 

He set sail for England on the fifth of April. On the 
eighteenth day of the passage, and in fine weather, the 
ship suddenly sprung a leak, and took in water so rapid- 
ly, that several of the passengers were alarmed, and de- 
serted her at the island of Ascension. Being assured by 
the captain that no real danger was to be apprehended, 
Mr. Thacher remained on board. The evil did not in- 
crease, though some rough weather was afterwards expe- 
rienced, and he was safely landed at Hastings, on the 
twenty -fifth of June, from which place he went immedi- 
ately to London. 

There is little doubt that this voyage was highly inju- 
rious to his health. He himself allowed that it deprived 
him of much of the strength, and more than all the 
flesh which he had gained from his travels. It was te- 
diously long, and was rendered uncomfortable by the ex- 
cessive and continued heat, which was the consequence 
of the vessel's being compelled by the winds to keep near 
the African coast. The burning rays of an equinoctial 
sun beat down on the head of the invalid, and " he with- 
ered and shrunk," to use the language of an elegant tri- 
bute to his memory, " like a frail plant." A few weeks, 
however, passed in a milder climate, did much to restore 
and reanimate him. 



REV. S. C. THACHER. ly 

In London, he again had recourse to medical advice ; 
and the opinions of his physicians opposed the inclina- 
tion which lie now entertained to return home. They 
thought that after taking, as he had, three summers in 
succession, the severity of a New England winter would 
he more than he could bear. In deference to their judg- 
ment, he sacrificed his wishes to what appeared to be his 
duty, and dooming himself to a protracted absence from 
his country and friends, sought out once more a retreat 
for the winter. 

Toward the end of August he repaired to Paris ; and 
after a residence in that city of a few weeks, proceeded 
to Moulins, the chief town in the Department of the Al- 
lier. This place is near the centre of France, and was 
chosen by him on account of its great reputation for 
mildness and salubrity of climate. His health visi- 
bly declined from the period of his arrival in France ; 
and though he himself indulged constant and soothing 
hopes of recovery and return to America, the friends who 
had opportunities of seeing him, perceived that in all 
probability the time of his final rest was at hand. The 
last letter which he wrote home bears the date of Decem- 
ber 17th. On that day he was cheered by a visit from 
his countryman and friend Professor Everett, who had 
come from Paris on purpose to see him. The following 
extracts of two letters addressed by that gentleman to 
Judge Thacher, furnish an affecting narrative of the 
. close of Mr. Thacher's life. 



lyi MEMOIR OF THE 

" In a letter which your brother has written you, and 
which you will probably receive with this, he says every- 
thing to you of his health which I could say. To me, 
who had not seen him since I left him at home, near 
three years ago, he of course had the appearance of one 
reduced by long illness ; but those who have seen him 
longer, and had some opportunity of comparing him at 
different periods of time, do not, as you are aware, speak 
discouragingly. Some symptoms, which in their conti- 
nuance might have been unpleasant, showed themselves, 
as he writes you, on the journey from Paris, which being 
seventy-one leagues, was of itself rather fatiguing. The 
fatigue of journeying, and the indifferent quality of the 
food procured on the road, seemed to have produced a 
disorder in his digestion, which continued some days 
after his arrival, not without weakening him considera- 
bly. This, however, has ceased, and he is already re- 
gaining strength. His appetite is good, and the weather 
permits him to take daily exercise in walking abroad. 
He has only now to wait to see the effect on his illness 
of the climate of this place. It is certainly a beautiful 
country. The fields have not yet lost their verdure, and 
the flowers of the Tulip Tree, gathered from the open 
air, are to be seen in the flowerpots wherever you go. 
The Loire, all the way as I came, and the Allier, here at 
Moulins, that flows into it, instead of being covered with 
ice, like our rivers in December, is as blue and calm as 
on a summer's day. — The English, that have passed 
years here ? particularly Lord Beverly, who has been 



REV. S. C. THACHER. lyii 

here eighteen years, are delighted with the climate ; and 
I am convinced it is more regular than that of the Me- 
diterranean cities, where, with some warmer days in 
winter, there is often a vicissitude of trying hlasts. 
Should however any circumstance make it desirable to 
your brother to go further south, he is on the main Ly- 
ons road, and can always pursue his journey. 

66 You can hardly judge of my sorrow at finding he 
had left Paris but four days before my arrival 5 though I 
could not but rejoice that he was getting out of the at- 
mosphere of the Parisian rains, and the noise of that 
great city. I determined to seize the first moment of 
visiting him here, and have only to regret that my visit 
is too short." 

The letter from which the above extract is made, was 
written at Moulins. That from which the remaining 
notices are taken, was written at Paris, after Professor 
Everett had received the intelligence of his friend's 
death. 

" Other letters will perhaps inform you of every in- 
teresting circumstance relative to this event; and from 
Mr. Thompson's family you will gather in the spring 
the most particular accounts. Their constant attentions, 
which, contributed not a little to render the last days of 
our dear brother as comfortable as could have been hop- 
ed, and far more so than might have been expected in a 
foreign land, will enable them to satisfy to its extent 



Iviil MEMOIR OF THE 

your curiosity in this respect. But I cannot forbear 
mentioning to you what I bad myself an opportunity of 
observing, or have learned from his servant. 

« The journey to Moulins, as I have already mention- 
ed in my other letter, was very fatiguing, and immedi- 
ately followed by symptoms both distressing and alarm- 
ing. This seems to have been the last effort of nature 
to throw off the disease, and not being successful — as, 
from the character of the complaint, such an effort could 
not be — an unfavourable turn was to be anticipated. But 
as the local symptoms yielded, under the treatment of 
Dr. Bell, as the lost appetite began to return, and as 
there was the promise of a mild and pleasant winter, in- 
stead of apprehending any ultimate bad effect of this at- 
tack, it seemed only to have delayed awhile the experi- 
ment to be made of the climate. But I do not think that 
any considerable portion of the strength, lost in this se- 
vere attack, was ever recovered ; and it seems to have 
put the delicate springs of life, already so long and great- 
ly strained, to a trial beyond them to sustain. Never- 
theless, he continued to go out in pleasant weather, and 
even declined being attended on his walks. He was 
able to take his food with appetite, he slept well, and 
was invariably cheerful and tranquil. His cough, how- 
ever, appeared to gain, and without being at single ef- 
forts very distressing, or attended at all with loss of 
blood, was by its continuance very exhausting. 

" It was in this condition, after an interval of about 
seven weeks from his arrival at Moulins, that I saw 



REV. S. C. THACHER. lix 

him. I had been much grieved on my own account, at 
finding that he had left Paris, but four days before I 
reached it ; and I determined to go and see him as soon 
as I could make the arrangement. On my arriving at 
Moulins, I met him walking in the street, much altered 
indeed from what I had last seen him at home. The 
wind was quite violent, and I immediately accompanied 
him to his lodgings. That was the last time but one 
that he ever went out. I passed the time I was there 
entirely with him ; and though it fatigued him to talk, 
he felt interested in hearing me, and I related to him all 
I could recall of my travels and observations in various 
countries, which I thought would amuse him. He asked 
some questions, but upon the whole his attention seemed 
fixed on higher things. 

"The day that I left him, he felt himself weaker than 
usual, and desired Capt. Burroughs to lend him his arm 
to walk out. This was the last time he ever went 
abroad. When I bade him farewell, which I strived 
to do without betraying the anxiety and sorrow I felt, 
we exchanged the expectation of meeting in Paris in the 
spring, and he added, that he had now no wish but to re- 
turn to America. From that day he grew weaker, and 
I soon received a letter from Mr. Thompson, mentioning 
that he was visibly failing. The first of January, in the 
afternoon, he was seized with very violent pains, and 
was obliged to go to bed. Dr. Bell, on being called, 
thought it his duty, as he has himself written to me, to 
announce to him that he could probably continue but a 



ix MEMOIR OF THE 

few hours. f This intelligence' says Dr. B. 6 he received 
with perfect tranquillity and resignation f and he pro- 
ceeded to make some arrangement of his affairs. His 
pains had yielded to the applications made, and he pass- 
ed the night better than was feared. Capt. Burroughs, 
and his servant Josef, watched with him. In the morn- 
ing his pains returned with new violence. This strug- 
gle was the last, and, like all the rest, was borne with a 
sweet fortitude, that makes one ashamed of impatience 
at the little sufferings of life. After this he was at ease, 
and though he said but little, recognized the persons 
around him, and discovered himself to be in possession 
of his reason, as his calmness evinced him to be in the 
full exercise of his faith. A little after twelve he called 
for some syrup to moisten his lips. His servant gave 
it him ; he swallowed it without difficulty, rested his 
cheek upon his hand, and ceased to breathe ! — He died, 
said his servant, like an angel. — The last mournful offices 
were performed with every possible mark of respect, 
and Dr. Bell read prayers over his lifeless remains." 

Feelings of peculiar melancholy affect me, when I re- 
view the last years of Mr. Thacher's life. — Compelled 
by illness to give up the exercise of a profession to which 
he had devoted himself from early youth, and for which 
lie ^ as so eminently qualified by his talents and virtues, 
he takes a reluctant leave of his friends and country, in 
the hope of regaining under milder skies the health 
which had forsaken him. He crosses the ocean which 



REV. S. C. THACHKR. Ixi 

rolls between the two continents of the world ; and find- 
ing no place of rest in Europe, he bends his solitary 
course from the crowded metropolis of England, to a 
silent village at the extremity of southern Africa. Here 
he spends month after month with little society or means 
of entertainment; hearing but seldom from his friends; 
snatching the rare opportunity of a pleasant day to 
wander alone among the desert hills ; now visited by a 
scanty restoration of strength, and now doomed to see it 
all depart away from him again— -"a sunbeam followed 
by a shade" — but yet with a flattering hope of recovery 
to support him, and a never shaken trust in God, which 
without hope, would have supported him still. At length 
his exile terminates, and he again commits himself to 
the sea. The unrelenting heat of the tropics robs him 
of nearly all his remaining strength ; and hardly has 
the cool air of a temperate clime restored a portion of 
his vigour, and lie blesses himself with the thought of 
returning home, when he is obliged to resume his wea- 
ry pilgrimage, to watch again the fluctuations of his 
insidious disorder, and again to see his hopes alter- 
nately encouraged, checked, deceived, — and at last de- 
stroyed. 

It is a sad thing to feel that we must die away from 
our own home. Tell not the invalid who is yearning 
after his distant country, that the atmosphere around 
him is soft, that the gales are filled with balm, and the 
flowers are springing from the green earth ; — he knows 
that the softest air to his heart, would be the air which 
i 



Ixil MEMOIR OF THE 

hangs over his native land ; that more gratefully than 
all the gales of the south, would hreathe the low whis- 
pers of anxious affection ; that the very icicles clinging 
to his own eaves, and the snow heating against his own 
windows, would he far more pleasant to his eyes, than 
the bloom and verdure which only more forcibly remind 
him, how far he is from that one spot which is dearer to 
him than the world beside. He may indeed find esti- 
mable friends, who will do all in their power to promote 
his comfort and assuage his pains ; but they cannot sup- 
ply the place of the long known and long loved ; they 
cannot read, as in a book, the mute language of his 
face ; they have not learned to wait upon his habits, and 
anticipate his wants, and he has not learned to commu- 
nicate, without hesitation, all his wishes, impressions, 
and thoughts, to them. He feels that he is a stranger ; 
and a more desolate feeling than that could not visit his 
soul. — How much is expressed by that form of oriental 
benediction, May you die among your kindred/ 

The piety, which with the subject of this memoir was 
a habit, sustained him, as we have seen, in the trying 
circumstances of his last illness. Affectionate and do- 
mestic in his disposition, he must have been more than 
usually sensible to their depressing influence; but he 
manifested no impatience under the burthen which his 
Father's hand had laid upon his spirit, because he had 
long been convinced that all His dispensations were just 
and merciful, and that it was his duty to suffer with re- 
signation all His will. 



REV. S. C. THACHER. lxiil 

Mr. Timelier' s piety was indeed the feature of his cha- 
racter, which, more conspicuous and perfect than any 
other, reflected on all the rest its excellence and beauty. 
It was so connected with his principles, his actions, his 
conversation and his manners, that it appeared not mere- 
ly to be united with them, but to control and guide them. 
It seemed to occupy the place of judgment and will; to 
rule in his mind, as absolutely as it did in his heart ; 
and to lead him to those just conclusions, both in specu- 
lation and conduct, which others attain to by the exer- 
cise of what is called good sense and discretion. It 
seemed also to improve and enlarge his intellectual 
powers ; to be as it were a distinct and central talent, 
supplying the rest with light and vigour, and inspiring 
his thoughts with a strength superior to their natural 
capacity. In short, it would be impossible to give an 
idea of his character, without taking into view this rul- 
ing principle ; for he was one, whose reference to the 
will of God, sense of dependence on him, and trust in 
the promises of the Gospel, were so constant and ardent, 
that they gave a peculiar complexion of holiness, purity, 
and sweetness* to all that he said and did. He was one, 

et in whom persuasion and belief 
Had ripened into faith, and faith become 
A passionate intuition ; whence the soul, 
Though bound to earth by ties of pity and love, 
From all injurious servitude was free."* 



* Wordsworth ? s Excursion, 



ixiY MEMOIR OF THE 

Further to exhibit the nature of Mr. Thacher's pie- 
ty, let me make use of an extract from a sketch of his 
character by the Rev. Dr. Channing, to which I have 
already referred.* "It was warm, but not heated; 
earnest, but tranquil ; a habit, not an impulse ; the air 
which he breathed, not a tempestuous wind, giving oc- 
casional violence to his emotions. A constant dew seem- 
ed to distil on him from heaven, giving freshness to his 
devout sensibilities ; but it was a gentle influence, seen 
not in its falling, but in its fruits. His piety appeared 
chiefly in gratitude and submission, sentiments peculiar- 
ly suited to such a mind as his. He felt strongly, that 
God had crowned his life with peculiar goodness, and 
yet, when his blessings were withdrawn, his acquies- 
cence was as deep and sincere as his thankfulness.— His 
devotional exercises in public were particularly strik- 
ing. He came to the mercy seat as one who was not a 
stranger there. He seemed to inherit from his venera- 
ble father the gift of prayer. His acts of adoration dis- 
covered a mind penetrated by the majesty and purity of 
God ; but his sublime conceptions of these attributes 
were always tempered and softened by a sense of the di- 
vine benignity. The paternal character of God was not 
only his belief, but had become a part of his mind. He 
never forgot that he ( worshipped the Father. 9 His firm 
conviction of the strict and proper unity of the divine 



Published in the Christian Disciple, Old Series, vol. iv. p. 141- 



REV. S. C. THACHER. ix\ 

nature taught him to unite and concentrate in his con- 
ception of the Father, all that is lovely and attractive, 
as well as all that is solemn and venerable ; and the ge- 
neral effect of his prayers was to diffuse a devout calm- 
ness, a filial confidence, over the minds of his pious hear- 
ers." 

He possessed a mind naturally strong, and had culti- 
vated it by a judicious course of study. It was rather 
discriminating than original in its character ; and rather 
clear and comprehensive than bold. Judgment predo- 
minated over fancy and invention ; and you would there- 
fore be more likely to see him following the best path of 
many that were presented to him, than striking out a 
new one. The success with which he applied his mental 
powers, may be estimated from the circumstance of his 
taking the first rank in his class, at the university where 
he was educated ; and the distinction which he there ac- 
quired as a scholar, he always maintained. 

His opinions were the result of impartial, serious and 
mature examination of the best evidence within his 
reach. They were rational, liberal, charitable. Being 
deliberately taken up, they were neither rashly avowed, 
offensively maintained, nor easily resigned. He regard- 
ed human authority as the mere dust in the balance, 
when weighed against truth; and though he feared dis- 
sension, he feared God and conscience more. He was 
moderate in all things, and yet always resolute and de- 
cided. There could be no greater error than to suppose, 
because he was not forward and boisterous in the ex- 



IXVI MEMOIR OF THE 

pression of his sentiments, that he wanted ability to sup- 
port, or firmness to adhere to them. 

His manner of thinking, and style of writing, will be 
judged of from his sermons. He treated a subject as if he 
had well reflected, before he began to write upon it. He 
presented those views which he thought the best adapted 
to secure the attention of his hearers, to enlighten their 
understandings, and reach their hearts. The topics of 
his discourses were almost always devotional or practi- 
cal ; and when he did preach on a controverted doctrine, 
he spoke in a calm and christian spirit, and preferred 
giving a lucid and forcible statement of what he held as 
the truth, to abusing and denouncing what he believed to 
be errour. He was particularly attentive to the proper 
division of his subject. In looking over his manuscript 
sermons for the purpose of selection, I do not remember 
that I met with one, which did not recommend itself by 
a clear, methodical, and natural arrangement. In this 
manner he not only led his hearers by easy and sure 
steps to the proposed end, but imprinted the way on 
their memory, and enabled them, by the order and dis- 
tinctness of his discourse, to carry home something more 
than a confused idea of what he had been saying. He 
aimed in all his preaching to convince and persuade, 
rather than to terrify. If he spoke oftener of heaven 
than of hell, it was not because he was afraid to pro- 
nounce the latter word in "ears polite/' but because he 
conceived that he had better authority from his master 
to invite men to the abodes of light, wisdom, peace and 



REV. S. C. THACHER. Ixyii 

joy, than to consign them to outer darkness, torture, and 
misery. He forgot not to warn and rebuke; he hesi- 
tated not to declare the certain and awful penalties of 
sin j 

" Yet held it more humane, more heavenly, first, 
By winning words to conquer willing hearts, 
And make persuasion do the work of fear."* 

It will be seen that his style is plain, perspicuous, un- 
affected, copious. His taste avoided all gorgeous and 
misplaced ornament, and yet could employ with effect 
the timely and legitimate graces of diction. 

Something has already been said with regard to his 
manner in the pulpit. He laboured under a difficulty of 
utterance, connected no doubt with the weakness of his 
lungs, which in the latter period of his ministry was 
painful both to himself and those who heard him. His 
gestures, and indeed his whole carriage, had a tendency 
to give strangers the impression that he was affected. 
But it was an impression which soon wore off ; and they 
who knew him, saw in this peculiarity only an external 
proof of his earnestness in the sacred cause, and his 
deep and affectionate solicitude for the spiritual improve- 
ment of his people. In other respects his manner was 
highly impressive and agreeable. 

His deportment in private and social life wag distin- 
guished for being gentle and engaging, and at the same 
time dignified. They who were led by his mildness and 



* Paradise Regained. 



kviil MEMOIR OF THE 

affability, to think that he might he too nearly and fa- 
miliarly approached, were sure to be deceived. There 
was a line drawn about him, imperceptible but impassa- 
ble, which repelled the intrusions of rudeness or levity. 
He won without effort the regards of friendship, and 
made himself the object of respectful attachment both at 
home and abroad. His temper was calm and equable ; 
for his heart was the dwelling of piety and peace. — In 
conversation he was instructive, various, fluent ; assuming 
no more than his part, but taking that part with readi- 
ness and ease. — To his pastoral duties he was unexcep- 
tionably attentive; and he seemed willing to sacrifice 
health, and even life, to their requisitions. This devot- 
edness was repaid by the universal and zealous affec- 
tion of the people of his charge. There never was a 
clergyman more sincerely loved, nor more deeply la- 
mented.. His loss yet seems recent to those who were 
accustomed to participate in the benefits of his ministra- 
tions; the gloom has not yet passed away from his 
church ; the long day of mourning has not yet gone 
down ; a shade of sorrow still lingers over the places 
which knew him, because they will know him no more. 

His ashes repose in a foreign land. His friends are 
deprived of the melancholy gratification of paying their 
frequent visits to his tomb. The peasant of France 
passes carelessly by it, and knows not how cherished 
and excellent he was, whose remains it covers. The 
weeds may grow round it, and the long grass may wave 
over it, for there is none to pluck them away. But his 



- 



REV. S. C. THACHER. 



Ixix 



memory is sacredly kept in many a heart ; and there 
stands a monument to his name more lasting than mar- 
ble, in the good which he effected while living, and in 
the example which he has left behind him. 



EPITAPH ON MR. THACHER, 

ENGRAVED ON HIS MONUMENT AT MOULINS. 



IN NOVANGLIA,APUD BOSTONIENSES,OL1M CHRISTI ECCLESEE MINISTRI J 

aui officiis ejus sacris dttm sedulo fungeretur, 

aUID VERUM ATftUE HONESTUM ELOQ.UENTIA ET SILENTIO DOCUIT : 
MITI SAP1ENTIA, MORIBUS SUAVISSIMIS, CARITATE ERGA OMNES, 



OMNI VIRTUTE, Q.TJJE GRATIAM AUT AUCTORITATEM CONCILIARET, 



LENTA TABE OPPRESSUS, VALETUDINIS CAUSA, A PATRIA DISCESSIT : 
ECCLESIA CUJUS MINISTER FUIT OMNE AMORIS OFFICIUM PERSOLVENTE: 
SED DUOS ANNOS PER MARE ET TERRAS JACTATUS, 
TTV HA C URBE DEMUM HOSPES, ANIMUM DEO PLACIDE REDDIDIT J 
liONGAM MEMORIAM, ET GRAVE DESIDERIUM SUI, 
APUD BONOS RELINaUENS. 
NATUS BOSTONI.E NOVANGLORUM 



MEMORISE SACRUM 



REVERENDI SAMUELIS COOPER THACHER, 



INGENIO D1SC1PLINIS EXCULTO, 



PRiESTANS. 



DECEMBRIS DIE XIV. A. D. N. MDCCLXXXV. 



OBIIT JANUARII DIE II. A. D. N. MDCCCXV1II. 
FRATRES ET SOROR EJUS MOERENTES H. M. P. 




LIST OF MR. THACHER'S PUBLICATIONS, 

Not inserted in the present volume. 



IN THE MONTHLY ANTHOLOGY. 

Vol. II. pp. 23. 134. 187. 298. Translation of a part of 
Barclay's Argenis. 
p. 251. Review of Pinkerton's Geography, 
p. 458. Silva, No. 7. 
p. 677. Editors' Notice. 
Vol. III. p. 124. Remarker, No. 7. 
Vol. IV. p. 309. Recollections of the Literature of 
France in 1806. 
p. 631. Remarker, No. 28. 
Vol. V. p. 121. The Editors' Address. 

pp. 259. 322. 434. Review of Marshall's Life 

of Washington, 
p. 603. Review of the Constitution and Asso- 
ciate Statutes of the Theological Semina- 
ry in Andover. 
Vol. VI. p. 194. Defence of the Review, just men- 
tioned. 

p. 181. Review of Zollikofer's Sermons on 
the Reformation. 

Vol. VIII. p. 249. Review of Adams' Lectures on Rhet- 
oric and Oratory. 

Vol. IX. p. 255. Review of Dr. Porter's Convention 
Sermon. 

Vol. X. p. 341. Address of the Editors. 

IN THE GENERAL REPOSITORY AND REVIEW. 

Vol. I. p. 345. Review of pamphlets by N. and T. 
Worcester. 



SERMONS. 



SERMON I 



EARLY PIETY. 

PROVERBS XXIII. 26. 

My son, give me thine heart, and let thine eyes observe 
my ways. 

This address of religious wisdom, though appli- 
cable no doubt to us all, seems from its connexion 
to have been designed by the preacher particularly 
for the young. It is intended chiefly for that in- 
teresting period of life, when the character is 
about to take its strongest and most decided direc- 
tion. When the season of pupilage and discipline 
is expiring, and the mind is beginning to think, and 
to prepare to act for itself; when untaught by ex- 
perience to distrust the illusions of fancy, and to 
disbelieve the promises of hope, life seems to the 
young enthusiast to open nothing but a long and 
gay vista, lined on every side with pleasures and 
honours ; at this ambiguous age it is, that religion 
is represented as lifting her mild and sacred voice. 

" My child, listen to my words, the words of 
your truest friend. You are about to decide the 
happiness of vour life on earth — it may be of your 
1 



2 



EARLY PIET1. 



life beyond the grave. Those happy days of care- 
less innocence, when you could repose entirely on 
others, have now passed away. It was not to be ex- 
pected that your path was always to be pointed out 
by a parent's hand, its dangers foreseen for you by a 
parent's wisdom, and its difficulties removed by a pa- 
rent's tenderness and care. It is the order of nature 
that each one should in due time be called to act from 
his own mind, and consult for his own well-being. You 
do not wish it should be otherwise. I see your eye 
already kindling with hope, and your breast swel- 
ling with ardour, at the thought of grasping the 
reins of self control, and becoming the arbiter of 
your own conduct. The world is at length all be- 
fore you, and you see how lavish it is of its promi- 
ses, to allure your affection, and captivate your young 
imagination. Life seems to you, as a distant and 
unexplored landscape appears to the eye of one 
who views it from an eminence. All is beautiful 
and bright. The forests wave their green and 
lofty tops in the western breeze ; the streams glit- 
ter in the morning sun ; the mountains tower in 
calm and solemn majesty ; the vallies wind among 
them in luxuriant verdure ; and as far as the eye 
can stretch, to where the land seems to touch and 
mingle with the sky, there is nothing to lessen the 
delight with which you regard so fair a vision. 
Here, you say, peace and contentment must surely 
dwell ! what but happiness can find a residence 
here? But a nearer approach will undeceive 



EARLY PIETY'. 



you. You will find that every thing has been 
softened and improved by distance. You will no 
doubt still see much to admire ; much to vindicate 
the wisdom and goodness of the Creator and Dis- 
poser of all. But you will find too, that the paths 
are rougher than you thought. You will meet 
with difficulties which you did not expect. Where 
you thought to find only security, you will see that 
innumerable dangers were lurking. You will find 
flowers blooming over the precipices which theycon- 
ceal ; and unless you take heed to yourself, your feet 
will slide where you least imagined it, and you may 
fall never to rise. Do not, however, hastily ar- 
raign your Creator for calling you to pass through 
this scene of dangers. He has wisely, though 
mysteriously, ordered all things. He does not leave 
you to explore the dark and doubtful paths of life 
without a guide. He hath showed you, O man, 
what is good ; and it rests with yourself to say 
whether you shall obtain it. He has sent me from 
his own right hand to direct your inexperienced 
steps, to lead you in ways of pleasantness, and 
paths of peace. My son, give me then thy heart, 
and let thine eyes observe my ways." 

Such is the invitation which religion makes to 
the young. And never in the long annals of time 
was there one human being, who at the close of 
life, did not rejoice if he had listened to it, and 
lament with bitter tears, if he had rejected it. 



4 EARLY PIETY. 

Let us inquire, what is here meant by giving the 
heart to religion, and what are the peculiar motives 
which should induce the young to make such a de- 
dication of it. 

To give your heart to religion, means simply, to 
give to it the supreme control over your conduct 
and affections. It does not mean, that nothing else 
is to engage your regard ; that you can have no du- 
ties and no pleasures, which are not strictly and ex- 
clusively the duties and pleasures of religion. It 
means only that you are to seek first and chiefly the 
kingdom of God ; that every thing in life is to be 
made subordinate to this great object ; that you are 
to do no actions, cherish no thoughts, indulge no feel- 
ings, gratify no desires, which religion cannot ap- 
prove ; that in all your plans in life you are to have 
respect to the proper ends of your being, and are to 
reduce all the principles and affections of your nature 
under the guidance of conscience, enlightened by the 
gospel. In one word, to give your heart to religion 
must mean, that since there is a God, you should re- 
verence, worship and love him ; that since Christ 
has come into the world to redeem you, he should 
always command your affectionate obedience and 
remembrance ; that since life has been given you 
in this world for some important end, you should 
diligently inquire for, and faithfully pursue that 
end ; that since you are born for another world, 
you should seek to fit yourself for it ; and that 
since there is to be a day of judgment, you should 



EARLY PIETY. 



5 



seriously prepare for it. The question is simply 
this ; whether you shall pass through life with no 
aims that look beyond it ; pursuing merely the 
pleasures, or riches, or honours, which open be- 
fore you ; and live and die as if you had no soul to 
be saved ; or whether, remembering that your na- 
ture is immortal, and capable of exalted and impe- 
perishable attainments, and that your condition in 
another life is to be decided by your conduct in 
this, you should, by habitual benevolence, incorrup- 
tible integrity, and sincere and unaffected piety, 
springing from christian principles, and proceeding 
on christian maxims, make sure your calling and 
election to the favour of God, and to the happiness 
of eternity. 

I would call your attention to some of the 
motives for choosing the better part of the 
alternative thus presented to us, which are pe- 
culiarly applicable to the young. In the first 
place, religion is never more necessary than in 
youth. It is a common prejudice, arising from 
very erroneous views of its nature, to think that 
it is chiefly intended for the aged, the miserable, 
and the sick, and not for the young, the vigorous, 
and the happy. Religion is designed for our con- 
solation, it is true ; but it is also intended for our 
guidance and restraint ; for the enlargement and 
direction of our views, and the progressive purifi- 
cation and exaltation of our natures. But all 
these objects are as necessary, and ought to be as 



6 



EARLY PIETY. 



interesting, to the young, as to the mature. When 
indeed do we feel the necessity of all our good 
principles to restrain and guide us most ? Is it in 
the advance of life, when the first warmth of our 
wishes is cooled, and a sober selfishness, if nothing 
else, will preserve us from all wild excess ? Or is 
it not at that season when passion rolls her impe- 
tuous tides through our veins ; when desires, yet 
unpalled by gratification, are rebels to our reason ; 
and when the bitter consequences of guilt have 
not taught us to shun it ? If too, you admit that 
any alteration ought to be made in our plans of life, 
in consequence of believing that there is a world 
of retribution to follow it, what season so proper 
for the exertion of this influence as that when our 
plans may be so arranged, that they shall need no al- 
teration? How far better must it be, to set out 
in the career of life originally right, than to suffer 
the pain and mortification of being compelled to 
retrace our steps. How important, also, is it to our 
happiness, to be early taught by religion to esti- 
mate the world at its proper value ; to regard it 
as a school of virtue, more than a festival of plea- 
sure ; a scene of high duties, not unmingled grati- 
fications; to be warned before hand, that we shall 
have much to suffer, as well as to enjoy ; and thus to 
be preserved from those cruel disappointments, 
which sadden the days of those, who have indulg- 
ed such extravagant hopes of felicity, as this state 
was never intended to realize. In short, unless you 



EARLY PIETY. 



7 



are prepared to say that the ardour of youthful 
passion needs no restraint, that the extravagance 
of youthful hopes needs no correction, and that the 
arrangement of life is not to be affected by the 
views which religion gives of its true design, you 
must admit, that religion is never more necessary 
than in the season of youth. 

Another consideration is, that religion may be 
most easily and permanently engrafted on the mind 
in youth. The soul is not yet filled with the cares 
of the world, and the deceitfulness of riches. It 
is not yet torn by ambition, and tortured by envy. 
It is not yet agitated by the tempests of politics, 
or swallowed up in the whirlpool of fashionable 
dissipation. It is not yet so bound down to the pur- 
suits of the world, as to leave it no leisure for the 
thought of heaven. Those sublime views which 
religion reveals, if permitted to enter the mind, 
will not find the place, which they ought to possess, 
preoccupied by merely terrestrial cares. The soul 
is yet white, and fair, and unsullied. Seize then this 
precious moment to engrave on it the everlasting 
characters of celestial truth. 

But not only is the mind most open to religion in 
youth, the heart also is then most susceptible of its 
sacred influence. The fetters of habit are not yet 
bound around us. That tendency of our nature 
to settle in the course which we have long pursu- 
ed, not only does not yet obstruct the power of re- 
ligion, but may be brought to lend its aid to en- 



8 



EARLY PIETY. 



throne piety forever in the breast. But unless this 
law of our constitution is early made the friend of 
religion, it will become its most formidable foe. 
There is a constantly increasing indisposition to 
change produced by the influence of habit. The 
longer the invitations of religion are neglected, the 
more unsusceptible does the soul become of its 
impressions. The repetition of the same arguments 
and the same resistance, of the same calls and the 
same excuses, renders us more and more fixed and 
easy in sin. The breast no longer smarts with re- 
morse, the old scruples are no longer felt, the lan- 
guage of the scriptures, and the remonstrances of 
conscience, strike more and more faintly on the 
ear ; till at length the heart becomes callous, sear- 
ed, completely selfish, and thoroughly worldly, out- 
grows every thing but its insensibility to religious 
truth, and no longer has hope or resolution left. 

But even when this fatal tendency of habit is 
counteracted, and we are arrested in the course of 
impenitence, still we can scarcely ever wholly avoid 
its consequences. There is a sceptical turn of 
mind too often produced, when we advance into 
the middle of life in habits of irreligion, which it 
is extremely difficult to overcome. Perhaps we 
meet with so much deception in the world, that we 
get the habit of confounding the evidence of truth 
with the sophistry of error; at any rate it is certain 
that distrust and suspicion are apt to creep over and 
incrust the soul, the beams of truth may strike upon 



EARLY PIETY. 



9 



as powerfully as ever, but they have no longer the 
same efficacy in penetrating, illuminating and warm- 
ing it, which they possessed in the soft and inge- 
nuous period of youth. The reason may be satis- 
fied, but incredulity still makes her power felt, 
though she no longer utters her voice. There is 
not the same connexion between the judgment and 
the will, between our faith and our practice, which 
once existed. Truth, however well supported, 
will no longer take that full possession of the soul, 
which it once did. They are gone — that generous 
confidence, that warm persuasion, that heartfelt ho- 
mage as well as assent, which we could have given in 
the unsuspicious days of youth. They are all gone. 
Rarely, if ever, unless your temperament be pe- 
culiarly sanguine and enthusiastic,can you recal those 
vivid impressions and that transporting assurance, 
with which you might once have welcomed the 
truths of the gospel. Though his conviction may 
be entire, and he may act habitually on his belief, 
still, a man who defers his attention to religion till 
late in life, can seldom be a christian with more 
than half his soul. Cherish then, young man, the 
treasure of thy moral sensibility, and if thou wouldst 
know all the joy and peace of believing, give God 
thine heart in the days of thy youth. 

But let us suppose that the power of habit, and 
this growing insusceptibility to the influence of 
truth, could be successfully counteracted ; yet why 
should you be willing to encounter the misery 
2 



10 



EARLY PIETY. 



and sorrow of a tardy repentance ? Why should 
you not spare yourself the anguish of being obliged 
to review a long course of transgression; of re- 
membering the wasted hours, which you cannot 
recal ; of thinking how wantonly you have slighted 
all the obligations of gratitude, all the convictions 
of your understanding, all the reproaches of con- 
science, and all the invitations of mercy? How 
too can you always assure yourself, that your re- 
pentance, when greatly protracted, is sincere ? 
Who shall determine the value of the professions, 
which the approach of death may call forth? 
If indeed, by the favour of Heaven, you should 
be permitted to live long enough to give proof 
of your sincere reformation, it is well. But if 
you die in the midst of your extorted and unex- 
ecuted resolutions of amendment, who in this world 
can answer for their reality or their worth? But 
were it nothing more, still what ingratitude is it, to 
defer to the end of life that religious obedience, 
which is every moment due to the most High ? 
What a return is it to the God of mercy, to come 
to Him, only when the world has left us alone ? 
How unjust, that we should give to Him nothing 
but the feeble powers, which age and sickness have 
spared us ? Is he worthy of nothing more than these 
shreds and patches of human obedience ; this poor 
remnant of activity; the miserable dregs and lees 
of a guilty life ? 

Remember then thy Creator in the days of 



EARLY PIETY. 



11 



thy youth." If this were a call to a life of hard- 
ship and severity, still it ought not to be slighted. 
If the dedication of ourselves to God were a vow 
of separation from society ; if the enjoyment of this 
life, and the attainment of another, were incompa- 
tible ; if religion were all sacrifice and no reward, 
all self-denial and no indulgence, all darkness and 
mortification, and no light and encouragement ; still, 
at God's command, all this ought to be endured. 
If this path, so thorny and narrow, leads to the glo- 
ries of immortal life ; if this dark and dreary ave- 
nue opens at last in the bright and sun clad regions 
of the celestial country, why should we not enter 
it without fear, and pursue it without doubt or 
fainting ? 

But far different from this is the truth. God 
has mercifully connected our happiness and our 
duty. Religion calls for no sacrifice, which a true 
regard to our own well-being alone would not lead 
us to make. There is nothing austere or terrific in 
her aspect. " Length of days is in her right hand, 
and in her left hand riches and honour ; her ways 
are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are 
peace." " The path of the just is as a shining light." 
" Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright,for 
the end of that man is peace." "For great peace 
have they who love thy law, and nothing shall of- 
fend them." 

But the blessings and rewards of early piety 
will not be extended to yourselves alone. To say 



12 



EARLY PIETY. 



nothing of the salutary influence of your example, 
think with what joy it will fill the bosom of those 
who gave you birth, to see your life dedicated to 
God and virtue. You may pay back something of 
the unspeakable debt of gratitude which you owe 
them. You may make that bosom, which has so 
often borne you in sickness and sorrow, throb with 
swelling joy ; and that paternal countenance, which 
has always been turned on you with benignity, 
beam with the smiles of delighted thankfulness. 
Defer it — and your repentance, if it come at all, 
may come too late to give joy to them — too late 
to prevent their grey hairs from going down in 
sorrow to the grave. 

But one consideration more, and I have done. 
Remember that your calculations on future life, 
however young you may be, are wholly precarious. 
Who shall tell you what a day may bring forth ? 
Where is your charter of lengthened life ? What 
armour of adamant have you to put on, which shall 
be proof against the dart of death? Or do you 
hold the pledge of the grim monarch of the tomb, 
that he will spare you, when he spares none be- 
side ? You, who presume so much on your youth, 
did you never hear that the budding rose might be 
blasted ere it could unfold its bloom ? Did you 
never know the brightness of the morning darken- 
ed by the tempest, ere the sun had reached its 
noon ? Does death, think you, boast no trophies, but 
those which he gathers from age and feebleness ? 



EARLY PIETY. 



13 



Did you never see the cheek of early beauty 
grow pale with disease ; the nervous arm of health 
sink languid and lifeless; the kindling eye become 
dimmed and quenched ; and the untimely grave 
open to receive the ruins of youth and hope ? Ah 
then ! presume not too much on your own exemp- 
tion. Dream not that you are safe, when every 
step you take is fraught with danger. In these bright 
days of health, this fresh and sweet morning of 
life, listen to the voice of wisdom ; give her thine 
heart, and let thine eyes observe her ways. De- 
fer not till to-morrow your good resolutions — for 
that morrow may never dawn for you. 



SERMON II 



PRINCIPLE OF ACTION. 

HEBREWS XI. 6. 

He that cometh to God, must believe that he is ; and 
that he is a rewarder of them that diligently seek 
him. 

Every man, who values at all the dignity or 
happiness of his rational nature, would wish to 
pass through life with a character formed and go- 
verned by some settled and determined principles. 
A man is both contemptible and miserable, who, 
in the various situations in which he is called to 
act, has no general rule of life, no fixed maxims of 
conduct, to which he can appeal ; whose opinions 
and actions vary and fluctuate with every passing 
event ; whose mind is a mere chaos of contrary im- 
pulses and conflicting wishes ; whose conduct is 
only a tissue of temporary expedients for the day 
that is passing over him ; and of whose actions, 
therefore, in any given case, you can form no cer- 
tain calculation, because they will be regulated by- 
no principles, which the accidents of an hour may 
not change. They are at the mercy of everv 



PRINCIPLE OF ACTION. 



15 



casual impulse and event, and you can no more de- 
termine whether they will be right or wrong to- 
morrow, than you can predict what new shape and 
colour the clouds may then assume. But one, 
whose life proceeds on a settled system ; whose 
steady principles impart their own character and 
complexion to the events and circumstances which 
occur to him ; who follows a clear line of honora- 
ble conduct, at all times, and places, and seasons ; 
such a man is ever dignified, because ever consis- 
tent ; and he alone can have any claim to the name 
of a man of high and uniform virtue. 

Since then it is so important to the dignity and 
perfection of our natures, that our lives should De- 
formed on some fixed rule ; the question becomes 
beyond measure interesting, " what that rule shall 
be." In order that it may be perfect, it must com- 
ply with several important conditions. It must be 
invariable, or else we shall sometimes be inconsis- 
tent. It must be comprehensive, or it will not em- 
brace every case. It must apply to our conduct, not 
only now, but at all times ; not merely to one part 
of our existence, but to our whole being ; it must 
be enforced also by motives and sanctions of univer- 
sal and unchanging operation. 

It will be my present purpose to endeavour to 
show, that such a rule, enforced by adequate sanc- 
tions, can be given to us only by religion. " He 
that cometh to God, must believe that he is, and 
that he is a re warder of them that diligently seek 



16 



PRINCIPLE OF ACTION. 



him." This is religion in its simplest and most ele- 
mentary form, as it might exist independently of 
any peculiar dispensation which illustrates and en- 
forces it. God and futurity are the all compre- 
hensive ideas which it labours to imprint on every 
heart. He cannot come to God, cannot be an ob- 
ject of the divine favour, cannot have a perfect 
rule of action, whose character is not formed on 
those principles which flow from regard to the 
will of the Supreme Being, and whose actions are 
not influenced by a consideration of the consequen- 
ces which will attend them in another life. The 
importance, then, and necessity, of a religious prin- 
ciple of action, is the subject of the present dis- 
course. 

A man, whose life is not governed by a prin- 
ciple of religion, wants, we may say, the only 
genuine criterion and standard of morals, the only 
universal rule of virtuous conduct. I of course 
shall not be misunderstood to say, that such a man 
may not possess many amiable and admirable quali- 
ties, many kind and noble and generous affections ; 
may not comply with all the established decencies 
of well-ordered society ; may not be free from any 
just charge of doubtful integrity, of violated friend- 
ship, or neglected offices of domestic affection. 
Undoubtedly there are some, whose conduct puts 
to shame the dwarfish virtues of many a lukewarm 
professor. There are many, whose habits are bet- 
ter than their acknowledged principles, and who 



PRINCIPLE OF ACTION. 



17 



living in a community where Christianity has elevat- 
ed and refined the public standard of morals, con- 
form insensibly to that standard, without explicitly 
acknowledging its authority, even to themelves. 
That such men are estimable and valuable, as far 
as this world is concerned, 1 mean not to deny. 
They are certainly not to be confounded with the 
vulgar herd of trifling cavillers, and bold blasphe- 
mers. I would say only, that the virtues of such men 
are not founded on a solid and unchangeable basis, 
and they cannot be relied on in all cases as uniform 
and stable ; and they never reach to the highest form 
of character of which our nature is capable, and 
which he who cometh to God must possess. 

What then are the rules by which a man, with- 
out a religious principle, must form his character, 
and govern his conduct ? They must be drawn 
from the prevailing moral sentiments of the com- 
munity of which he is a member ; from that pecu- 
liar modification of them, which is called the law 
of honour ; from a calculation of the temporal con- 
sequences of his actions ; or from the dictates of a 
moral instinct. 

With respect then to the first of these, the pre- 
vailing moral sentiments of the community, of which 
we are members, as the standard of action. It is ob- 
vious that the purity of this standard will vary 
greatly in different countries. Let us take one of 
the strongest cases which can be put — that stand- 
ard as it exists in the place where we live. It may 
3 



18 



PRINCIPLE OP ACTION. 



well be doubted, whether it will be found higher 
and purer in any spot of equal population on the 
earth. The principles of religion have been so 
long established among us; we have so many 
hereditary habits of respect for them; they are 
presented to us every week, I trust I may on 
such an occasion be allowed to say it, in so much of 
their native simplicity and rationality; they are so 
publicly reverenced by the greatest and best men 
among us, that they certainly exert a most direct 
and sensible and powerful influence in giving recti- 
tude and elevation to the public judgment of mo- 
rals. A man, then, who should argue with us, from 
the purity and elevation of this standard, against 
the importance and necessity of a religious princi- 
ple of action, has an advantage to which he is not 
fairly entitled. He ought to take the case of a 
community, where that religious principle, which 
he would discard for himself, is equally neglected 
by others ; and this would bring him, I believe, 
to a state of society so corrupt, that we should 
hear little more of this argument. 

But, granting that he has a right to take the 
highest and purest which he can find ; the incompe- 
tency of this standard, as it is found among us, to 
form a character of pure and uniform and exalted 
virtue, is sufficiently manifest. What this standard 
is, must be determined, of course, not by the moral 
sentiments of those who are professedly governed 
by a religious principle, but is to be seen in the de- 



PRINCIPLE OF ACTION. 



19 



gree of virtue, which a man must possess, in order 
not to forfeit the general estimation of those 
around him. Now need I remind you, how many 
essential defects of character he may have, with- 
out suffering this penalty ? He may not only want 
almost all the higher virtues, he may have many 
positive vices. He may be profane, provided his 
profanity be not excessively vulgar and gross and 
obtrusive ; he may be parsimonious, provided he 
be not absolutely miserly and mean ; he may, to a 
certain point, be hard in his dealings, passionate, 
censorious, proud. These, and many other most 
serious defects of character he may have, and 
though he certainly will not be loved and honour- 
ed like a man of uniform christian virtue, yet he 
will pass on the whole for a tolerably fair charac- 
ter, and will not incur the loss of the general estima- 
tion of the community. Now, my friends, suppos- 
ing this representation true, or any thing near the 
truth, will you say, that public opinion, in this or 
any other community that can be found, will super- 
sede the necessity of a religious principle ; will 
afford you a high and solid and uniform criterion of 
conduct ; will give you principles, on which you 
may build a character, which we may believe God 
will regard with favour, and with which you will 
not fear to enter his presence ? 

2. Of that modification of public opinion, which 
is called the laiv of honour, I would next speak. 
Honour is a word of no very determinate meaning 



20 



PRINCIPLE OF ACTION. 



in the mouths of most of those who use it. It is 
so subtle and volatile, as almost to escape the 
chains of definition, and it is not easy to assail an 
enemy so mutable in its form, and aerial in its na- 
ture. It is sometimes taken in its best sense, to 
signify a certain refinement and delicacy of feel- 
ing, beyond what the law of strict rectitude might 
appear to exact; a sensibility, and as it were polish 
of principle, which cannot bear the slightest soil, 
and which would " feel a stain, like a wound." Now, 
so far as this sentiment of honour coincides with 
the laws of virtue, it is no doubt always innocent, 
and to some men valuable ; though it teaches no- 
thing, I think, which is not taught with greater 
force by the genuine spirit of Christianity. But 
when it is talked of as a law of conduct by itself, 
and a substitute for all religious principle, it must 
be looked into more narrowly. What then do we 
find it to be ? As far as it is any thing definite, it 
seems to be a sort of tacit convention among men 
in refined life, to observe certain points of morality, 
and certain particulars of manners, in their common 
intercourse, with peculiar strictness, and to com- 
pensate themselves with more than a proportionate 
relaxation of others. A man of honour, for example, 
must not cheat; and, except in some cases, to one 
greatly inferior, must not lie. In general he must 
abstain from all those vices, which fashion aban- 
dons to the vulgar and low, because she can make 
them neither elegant nor interesting. Within these 



PRINCIPLE OP ACTION. 



21 



limits he is left at liberty to lay waste the happi- 
ness of society. Honour will permit a man to neg- 
lect every duty to his God. Honour will tolerate 
unbounded sensuality, and the licentious indulgence 
of every passion. Honour will permit him to lay 
in the dust the purity and peace of unguarded in- 
nocence. Honour will permit, nay honour will 
command him to take on himself the execution of 
the vengeance, which belongs to God alone, and 
bathe his hands in an offending brother's blood. 
Need I ask, whether such a principle as this is 
a basis, on which to raise a character of exalted 
virtue ; whether this is to be taken as the sub- 
stitute for the eternal and unvarying rectitude of 
the commands of God? 

3. Nor will he who discards the aid of a reli- 
gious principle, be able to find a perfect rule of 
action in a calculation of the temporal consequen- 
ces of his conduct Undoubtedly a life of virtue, 
considered merely in relation to ourselves, and this 
world alone, may be proved to be the most rational 
and politic course of conduct. But the question is not, 
at present, concerning the value of such a calculation 
as a motive, but of its clearness, its universality and 
its steadiness as a rule of action. That it is defi- 
cient in all these particulars is extremely evident. 
The consequences of human actions are sometimes 
uncertain, and often remote, and it is not possible 
therefore in many cases for most men, and in some 
cases for anv man, to determine what actions are. 



22 



PRINCIPLE OF ACTION. 



on the whole, for his happiness. The laws of so- 
ciety will direct him only in a few, and those very 
obvious cases, of mere external conduct. Besides, 
although as a general calculation of interest, vir- 
tue ought to be pursued, it is not to be denied, that 
considered merely with relation to this world, it 
may sometimes appear an unprofitable course. 
There are occasions, when he who has no higher 
rule of action than self interest, may think that he 
ought to sacrifice his neighbour's happiness to his 
own. The man, therefore, Avho acts only on this 
principle, does not possess a standard of conduct, 
which, in opposition to all appearances, and under 
every change of circumstances, will keep him steady 
in the path of virtue. Whatever may be the 
general character of his actions, his rule of con- 
duct is not founded on perfect and unchanging 
principles. He cannot be relied on at all times, 
and in all situations, as a man of uniform and inva- 
riable, much less of high and exalted virtue. 

Neither can any substitute for the perfect will 
of God, as a rule of action, be found in any moral 
faculty implanted in our natures. This is not the 
place to discuss the question, whether the sense 
of right and wrong, which we possess, be an ac- 
quired principle, and liable therefore to vary 
with the varying influence of example, authori- 
ty, education, sympathy, and habit which pro- 
duce it. We may admit that it is not ; and yet 
those with whom we reason can derive no advan- 



PRINCIPLE OF ACTIOS. 



23 



tage from this concession. For this moral sense 
points out none of the duties of morality more 
clearly, than our duties to God. It cannot there- 
fore be quoted by any one to justify himself in pass- 
ing through life in negligence of his will. Besides, 
we know that in point of fact, the dictates of this 
faculty have varied in some particulars, in differ- 
ent ages, countries, and individuals. But above 
all, there is one objection which is absolutely de- 
cisive against its claims to be considered as an uni- 
versal standard of conduct. This moral faculty, 
like any other feeling or affection, is liable to be ob- 
scured, perverted, and depraved. It cannot, there- 
fore, furnish that perfect and never changing rule 
of action for which we seek. No, my friends; 
nothing short of an habitual conformity of our ac- 
tions to the will of the Most High, will produce a 
character of pure and uniform morality. The will 
of God alone can never change. His word alone 
endureth forever. His law only is perfect. His 
testimony alone is sure. 

5. Supposing however, those rules of conduct, of 
which I have spoken, to be perfect as far as they 
go, they still will never enable a man to reach the 
highest order of character of which our nature is ca- 
pable, and for which it is designed, and which he 
who cometh to God must possess. An habitual 
medit ation on the idea of God, and of a superintend- 
ing Providence, tends to exalt and purify the cha- 
racter. It is an idea composed of the richest ele- 



24 PRINCIPLE OF ACTION. 

ments, embracing whatever is venerable in wisdom, 
awful in authority, and touching in goodness It bor- 
rows splendour from all that is fair, grows familiar 
with all that is great, and attracts to itself, as to 
a centre, whatever bears the impress of dignity, 
order, or happiness. The exclusion of the idea of 
the Supreme Being from an influence on our feel- 
ings and conduct, tends to degrade our moral senti- 
ments, and despoil them of their dignity and lustre. 
Human nature will then acknowledge nothing bet- 
or higher than itself. That admiration of per- 
fect excellence, for which we are formed, finds no- 
thing to cherish it ; and our actions sink down to 
the level of that standard, which we habitually con- 
template. 

A similar effect must follow from refusing to al- 
low the idea of a future life to exert an influence on 
our feelings and principles. Whatever veils a future 
world from our view, and contracts the limits of 
existence within the present life, must tend pro- 
portionably to diminish our sense of the dignity of 
our nature. There must be the greatest difference 
between the habitual views and feelings of a man, 
whose hopes and fears are all suspended on the 
present hour, and of one who believes that he is to 
survive the stroke of death, and live through the 
ages of eternity. This difference in their views 
must produce a difference in the character of their 
most ordinary actions. It will be seen most clear- 
ly on those occasions, which call for great exer- 



PRINCIPLE OF ACTION. 



25 



lions, and trying sacrifices of interest ; and though 
it is true that these are not the ordinary business 
of life, yet that system is essentially defective, 
which leaves no room for their cultivation. At any 
rate, we may be sure from the mere principles of 
reason, that if there be verily a " God that judgeth 
in the earth ;" they, whose characters have been 
formed only for this world, and this world's good, 
will not stand before his bar on equal terms with 
those, who by an habitual devotion to his will, and 
regard to the scenes of eternity, have prepared 
themselves for the society and employments of 
heaven. 



1 



SERMON III. 



SAME SUBJECT CON TINUED. 

IIEB. XI. 6. 

He that cometh to God, must believe that he is, and 
that he is a rewarder of them that diligently 
seek him. 

The author of the epistle to the Hebrews gives 
us in this passage a view of faith in its most simple 
and elementary form. God and futurity are re- 
presented as the great objects of it ; and indeed 
under these comprehensive ideas, the truths which 
our Creator, in his various religious dispensations 
to mankind, has been pleased to reveal, may all be 
easily arranged. In discoursing from this passage 
in the morning, I endeavoured to show, that an ha- 
bitual regard to these ideas, which constitute the 
essence and principle of religion, is necessary to 
our virtue here, and our acceptance with God 
hereafter. They are necessary, because without 
them a man must want the only genuine criterion 
and universal rule of virtuous conduct, Without 



PRINCIPLE OF ACTION. 



27 



them his virtues cannot be founded on a solid and 
unchangeable basis ; cannot be relied on in all ca- 
ses as uniform and stable ; will never reach the 
highest form of character of which our nature 
is capable, and which he who cometh to God 
must possess. This I endeavoured to prove, by 
showing the inadequacy of every rule of life, by 
which a man without a religious principle must 
form his character and govern his conduct. Let 
us now advance somewhat farther, and inquire, 
whether a man, whose actions are not influenced 
by a regard to the will of God, and the rewards 
of virtue in another life, will have any motive of 
sufficient efficacy to enforce a virtuous practice at 
all times, in all places, and under all circumstances. 
The subject then of this afternoon's discourse will 
be the comparative value of the motives to virtue, 
in a man, who is governed by a religious principle, 
and in one who discards or neglects it as useless. 

The great difficulty and task of virtue is to 
make the consideration of the future predominate 
over the perception of the present. Our mental 
sight deceives us with regard to the value and de- 
sirableness of present objects, in the same manner 
as to the eye of a child, the shrub, which springs 
up under his feet, appears greater than the oak, 
whose majestic height and spreading branches are 
only dimly and indistinctly seen in the distant hori- 
zon. It is the power which present appearances 
of good possess, the power of sense over reason. 



28 



PRINCIPLE OF ACTION. 



our animal over our spiritual nature, in which the 
strength of all our vicious propensities consists. 
No man deliberately chooses evil for its own sake, 
or a smaller before a greater good, when they are 
both equally within his reach. But we every day 
see examples of men, who choose a good, which 
they confess to be inferior, momentary, and even 
in its consequences injurious, only because it is im- 
mediately present to their senses. The great object 
then of virtue, is to balance this power of present 
allurements, by the rewards which it promises to 
self-denial,and by the clearness and force, with which 
it unfolds them. Now, when the consideration of 
a religious principle is discarded, morality is evi- 
dent!} reduced to a mere plan or expedient, adapt- 
ed to our present situation ; and of course is en- 
forced by those motives alone, which arise from 
the prospects and interests of the present state. 
What then are those motives which without a re- 
ligious principle are to aid us in this contest with 
present objects, and to become the conquering an- 
tagonists of the power of our senses? They are 
to be found in the hope of estimation and distinction 
among men, which virtue will procure ; in the in- 
trinsic pleasures of virtue, and the pangs of re- 
morse, which vice produces ; in the temporal advan- 
tages of virtue ; and its beauty, and fitness and con- 
formity to our nature. 

1. The desire of the estimation and distinction, 
vyhich. bad as the world is, virtue will usually pro- 



PRINCIPLE OF ACTION. 



29 



cure, is a real, and unquestionably a powerful, mo- 
tive to its practice. It would be a fearful experi- 
ment to try how much of the virtue, that is 
found among us, would be withdrawn, if its influence 
were wholly lost. But powerful as it certainly is, 
its operation is both partial and inadequate. It is 
partial, because it extends only to those actions of 
which the world takes cognizance, and does not 
reach to many of the most essential personal vir- 
tues, and acts with greatly diminished force in the 
retirement of domestic life, which is after all the 
great theatre of virtue. It is also inadequate, be- 
cause human estimation is a thing, which though a 
man may value, he can live without. He may per- 
suade himself, too, that he will not incur the loss 
of it, by yielding to a given temptation, because 
crimes are usually committed under such circum- 
stances as suggest a hope of concealment and im- 
punity. There are some crimes also, and those too 
of the deepest die, which instead of forfeiting, 
most certainly insure a kind of estimation, which 
some men will highly value. Hence the neces- 
sity of a sense of an ever-present Ruler and 
final Judge of our actions ; for it is this alone, 
which operates equally, at all times, and in every- 
place; which impresses on all crimes, under what- 
ever circumstances committed,the character of folly 
and ruin ; which shows that duty and interest, how- 
ever they may appear now to be separated, in eve- 
ry instance coincide, and that the most prosperous 



30 



PRINCIPLE OF ACTION. 



career of vice, the most brilliant successes of cri- 
minality, are but an accumulation of wrath against 
the day of wrath. 

II. Another motive to virtue, which a man with- 
out a religious principle may have, is drawn from 
the intrinsic 'pleasures which accompany it, and the 
pangs of that remorse, which accompanies vice. 

With regard to the pleasures of virtue, every 
good man knows that they are real and inestimable. 
But this is after all an affair of feeling and of taste ; 
and if, when you remind a man, that in breaking 
the laws of virtue, he gives up the greatest inter- 
nal tranquillity and satisfaction, he should reply, 
that his taste is of a different sort ; that there are 
other gratifications, which he values more, and that 
every man must chuse his own pleasures, I see 
not but that the argument is at an end. 

Of the pangs of remorse, and the terrors of 
conscience, the influence is no doubt great and 
powerful. But then it may be fairly said that they 
owe their effica'cy to the early-imprinted truths of 
religion, which no scepticism can ever completely 
erase. There is in the breast of every man a 
consciousness of the existence of unseen power; a 
sense of helplessness, and of dependence on superior 
agency ; a complacency in virtue, for which his rea- 
son cannot wholly account,but which his heart cannot 
refuse to feel ; a sense of undefined and mysterious 
danger in vice ; and, above all, a secret dread of 
something after death. Now. in so far as these 



PRINCIPLE OF ACTION.' 



31 



feelings arise from a reference to God and a fu- 
ture life, they partake of the nature of religious 
motives, and of course cannot be brought to prove 
that a religious principle is unnecessary. Nothing 
however is more certain, than that this sensibility 
to virtue and vice, if left without the aid of the 
clear and well defined maxims of religious be- 
lief, will daily become less operative. Every sin 
to which we yield diminishes its power. There 
is even such a thing, my friends, as conscience 
seared as with a hot iron. It is possible to sti- 
fle all remorse for the past, all horror of the 
present, and all dread of the future. We may be- 
come dead in sin; and conscience, with all its ter- 
rors, may be buried in the grave of virtue. If 
then by the habit of sin, the power of conscience 
should be impaired or destroyed, how shall it be 
replaced ? If its influence as a motive be once 
lost, what power shall restore it ? If this lamp of 
God within our breasts be once extinguished, what 
but the hand of God can relumine it ? In him, 
who believes that the voice of conscience is the 
voice of God ; who believes that in another world, 
its decisions shall be ratified and its menaces exe- 
cuted — in him alone will this motive have any ra- 
tional, constant, and effectual operation. 

III. and IV. It remains then, for a man without 
a religious principle to seek his motives to virtue 
in a consideration of its temporal advantages, or in 
a view of its beauty, and fitness and conformity to 
our nature. 



32 



PRINCIPLE OF ACTION. 



I do not think of denying, what I most sincerely 
believe, that the connexion between virtue and 
happiness is even in this world so great, that in an 
immense majority of cases, if not in every possible 
case, they may be proved to coincide. But though 
undoubtedly this consideration ought, and in a man 
of perfectly unclouded reason and obedient pas- 
sions, would produce a life of virtue, the question 
still returns, whether in point of fact it does pro- 
duce it, or whether it can reasonably be expected 
to have this efficacy on men as we find them. In 
the more refined classes of society, it will perhaps 
be sufficient to induce men to comply with all the 
common decencies of life, to obey the established 
laws of society, and to conform to those usages, 
which prescription has sanctioned. But this is all that 
a motive of worldly interest is capable of effecting,and 
much more than it will effect on a majority of man- 
kind. It is utterly incompetent to produce any of 
the nobler and more elevated virtues ; any thing 
of that grandeur of sentiment, which raises us above 
the low calculation of the w r orldly advantage ; of 
that fortitude, and purity of purpose, which dares to 
displease, in order to serve you ; of that integrity, 
which nothing can seduce, and nothing can intimi- 
date ; of that gratitude, which does not measure its 
returns by the extent of its obligations, but the 
limits of its powers; any thing in fine of that exalt- 
ed love of truth and virtue, which finds in the prac- 
tice of goodness itself a sufficient recompense ; 



PRINCIPLE GF ACTION. 



33 



which regards the triumph of him, who elevates 
himself by vice, as far more to be pitied, than the 
disgrace of him, who falls by perfidy ; and which 
believes that all which we can suffer in this world 
is nothing, so long as self-reproach is not among our 
sufferings. To expect to find virtues of this cha- 
racter in a heart which was never warmed by any 
other influence than that of interest, is as if you 
should look for the rich and luxuriant products of 
the tropics on the frost bound plains of Siberia. 

But not only is this motive inadequate to pro- 
duce any of the sublimer virtues ; it is very far 
from being a sufficient preservative from vice. I 
do not speak of those actions of common life, in 
which the passions stagnate without impulse. The 
time to try the efficacy of a motive is the hour of 
strong temptation. It is in those times, when 
worldly interest appears to come into collision with 
duty ; when the practice of virtue requires the sa- 
crifice of apparent advantage ; in the moments 
when desire is inflamed, and passion is raging ; 
when no eye sees you, and no tongue can proclaim 
your disgrace ; these are the times to bring the mo- 
tive to the test. It is when the clouds are gather- 
ed over the edifice, and the tempest is bursting on 
it, and all the winds of heaven are shaking it to its 
centre — this is the time to judge of the depth of 
its foundations, and the solidity of its pillars. And 
in this hour of trial, what are the supports on 
which the goodness of a man without a religious 
5 



34 PRINCIPLE OP ACTION. 

principle must rest ? Will you tell him of the tem- 
poral advantages of virtue? He may reply to you 
that he believes in the general propriety and useful- 
ness of laws of morality, but if you show him no 
law-giver, who has a right to obedience, who will 
reward him if he prefer virtue to interest, and pu- 
nish him if he purchase pleasure at the expense 
of probity, you clearly make virtue a question of 
mere worldly profit and loss ; and if the balance 
in any case appears to him to be on the side of 
indulgence, on your own principles you are com- 
pletely answered. 

But you would then, perhaps, change your ground, 
and discourse to him on the beauty of virtue, and its 
conformity to our nature, 

" Make him hear 
Of rectitude and fitness, moral truth 
How lovely, and the moral sense how sure, 
Consulted and obeyed to guide his steps 
Directed to the first and only fair." 

But if you cannot show that virtue is lovely, and 
true, and fit, because God has wade it so, and con- 
nected it in another world with all that is fair and 
harmonious and happy, can you expect with these 
fine names to silence the impatient voice of appe- 
tite, subdue the wild struggles of desire, and 
charm the deaf serpent of passion, though you 
charm ever so wisely? Has man then been 
found so reasonable, his affections so obedient, his 
moral sensibility so exquisitely alive, that in the mo- 
ment of fearful temptation you may expect him to 



PRINCIPLE OF ACTIOX. 



35 



listen to the gentle whispers of unsanctioned moral 
sentiment ? You might as well go to the sea shore, 
when the tempest has lashed the ocean into foam, 
and expect by the harmonious pleasings of a lute 
to lull its surges to repose. 

It is then the result of our inquiries, that morals 
are inseparably united with religion ; that they can 
rest securely on no other basis ; and that however 
virtue may owe her panegyrics to reason, she must 
derive her authority from religion. Consider then, 
for a moment, some of the motives to goodness of 
a sincere follower of Christ. He has every motive, 
in its fullest strength, which may act on the man 
of the world ; and he has others also of an infi- 
nitely higher and weightier character. He regards 
the laws of virtue as flowing from the will of a 
supreme Legislator, who is able to make, and who 
will make, his laws respected ; he considers that he 
is ever under the inspection of His all-searching eye ; 
that though he may elude the observation of man, 
he cannot, though he should ascend into heaven, or 
make his bed in hell, avoid the presence of Him, 
who can make the darkness of night to be light 
around him. All Jiis motives to virtue, and dissua- 
sives from vice, are dilated to unspeakable magni- 
tude, by considering that the consequences of his 
actions extend beyond the present life. There is 
unfolded in the gospel of Christ a view of futuri- 
ty, which, to him who does it justice, must annihi- 
late the influence of every attraction to sin. He 



36 PRINCIPLE OF ACTION. 

who believes that in another world he shall be- 
hold the triumph of suffering virtue, and the 
abasement of successful vice, may, while such a 
belief is present to his mind, be assaulted by temp- 
tation in vain. Say not in opposition to this, that 
these motives are proved by experience to be some- 
times inefficacious. They are so — and that they 
are so is the strongest proof of their necessity. If 
the virtue of him, who sees in God his creator and 
benefactor, the origin of all virtue's laws; who 
sees in Christ his redeemer and judge, who lived 
to illustrate, ai d died to enforce them; who sees 
in eternity the scene of his happiness or despair, 
accordingly as he observes or violates them ; if 
the virtue of such a man is not safe from tempta- 
tion ; if it be possible to sin in the face of such 
motives as these, how totally insecure must he be, 
on whom they have never operated? 

The improvement which we ought to make of 
these views, my friends, is to impress on our hearts 
the importance of a religious principle, not merely to 
illuminate the path of our duty, but to give strength 
to our steps in pursuing it. What then is the 
influence, which the ideas of God, and a future 
life have on our conduct ? Are they as present to 
our thoughts as they ought to be ? Do we habitu- 
ally refer our actions to God's will ? And is the 
recollection of their consequences in a future life 
ever present to check every tendency to sin, and 
animate every impulse to virtue? Surely it is be- 



PRINCIPLE OF ACTION. 



37 



yond measure presumptuous for any man to refuse 
the light and aid of the religion of Christ, in this 
Avorld of danger, temptation, and frailty. With 
all his supports, the best man finds the path of vir- 
tue difficult, God knows, and perilous enough. 
Without them, every spot on which Ave tread is 
insecure, and every step we advance we are me- 
naced by destruction. As then you value the 
peace and hopes which virtue can give in this 
world; as you regard the favour of God, as you 
value his mercies, and hope for final acceptance 
with him, seek to impress on your hearts the eter- 
nal truth, that religion and morality are bound to- 
gether in indissoluble bonds. Let us then put on 
the whole armour of God, that we may be able to 
stand in the evil day. Then we may meet the 
enemies of our salvation, and fight the good fight of 
faith unshaken, unseduced, unterrified. And when 
at last the struggle is over with us, Heaven will 
open wide her ever during gates to receive us, and 
we shall be welcomed to the joy of our Lord. 



SERMON IV 



GOVERNMENT OF THE THOUGHTS. 

PSALM CXXXIX. 23, 24. 

Search me, O God, and know my heart ; try me, and 
know my thoughts ; and see if there be any wicked 
way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting. 

Whatever theory may be formed to account for the 
progress of the gospel, it will at least be admitted 
that it owes none of its success to nattering the 
passions, or coinciding with the vicious propensities, 
of mankind. The requisitions of the gospel every 
where display the most high and austere and un- 
accommodating purity. In the systems of most of 
the ancient moralists, even when there w 7 as no in- 
tention of making any compromise with the vicious 
inclinations of the human heart, the utmost that 
was proposed was to regulate the actions of man- 
kind. But the Master whom Ave serve, exercises 
a sublimer and more extensive jurisdiction over his 
followers. His empire is universal. It controuls 
every faculty of our minds, and is to be felt in the 



GOVERNMENT OF THE THOUGHTS. 



39 



inmost recesses of our hearts. His religion does not 
merely restrain our external actions, it penetrates 
where no human eye can follow it, and regulates 
the secret workings of our very thoughts. 

And herein is illustrated that profound and inti- 
mate knowledge of human nature, on which the 
precepts of him " who knew what is in man," are 
all built. To impose any restriction on the thoughts, 
might at the first view appear to be severe and 
cruel, and an unnecessary abridgment of the scanty 
stock of our harmless pleasures. What is so free, 
it may be said, as thought, and what so innocent, 
as long as our actions are right, as to suffer our 
thoughts to range without controul? But our Sa- 
viour knew that it was in vain to prohibit actions, 
as long as the thoughts are suffered to rove at li- 
berty; to attempt to check the flowing of the 
stream, when the fountain itself is open and unre- 
strained. The connexion between thought and 
action is so intimate and unavoidable, that in its 
most extensive sense, it may be said, that as a man 
thinketh in his heart, so is he. The gospel there- 
fore requires the government of the thoughts, not 
merely as a useful, but an indispensable discipline ; 
not merely as auxiliary to the higher virtues of the 
christian character, but as altogether necessary to 
preserve us from the dominion of our sinful pro- 
pensities. It does not teach us to wait for sin till 
it is strong and flourishing, but commands us to root 
up its seeds as they are bursting into life. It 



40 



GOVERNMENT OF THE THOUGHTS. 



carries order and discipline into our very fancies 
and conceptions, and by hallowing the first shadowy 
notions of the minds from which actions spring, 
makes our actions themselves good and holy. 

I propose to occupy your time to day, in attempt- 
ing to illustrate the importance and practicability of 
the government of the thoughts. In illustrating 
its importance, I shall endeavour in the first place 
to show that the discipline of our thoughts is ne- 
cessary to the full and successful exertion of our 
mental powers ; secondly, that it is necessary to our 
happiness, and to fit us for the scenes and duties of 
actual life; thirdly, that it is necessary to our vir- 
tues, and consequently to our everlasting well being. 

I. It is necessary that our thoughts should be 
under regular discipline, in order to the full and 
successful exertion of our mental powers. What 
is called a vigorous and active mind seems, after all, 
to mean only a mind, of which the thoughts are all 
subjected to the authority of its governing powers, 
and may therefore all be brought to bear, with 
their whole force, on the business in which it is 
occupied. Attention seems only another name for 
that state of mind, when all its thoughts are fixed 
and collected, and bent to a single point ; and it is a 
power of attention, much more than any original 
and native diversity of talents, which constitutes 
the intellectual difference among men. Newton 
was accustomed to declare, that if he differed from 
his fellow men, he owed it to his power of patient 



GOVERNMENT OF THE THOUGHTS. 41 

meditation ; in other words to his power of fixing 
his thoughts intently and long on any subject with 
which he was occupied. We must have all ob- 
served the truth of these remarks in the course of 
our various pursuits. If we examine our minds 
at those periods when they are most vigorously 
and successfully exerted, we shall observe that all 
other objects are excluded from our minds, and 
that our thoughts are concentrated and engrossed 
by the task in which we are employed. If on the 
contrary we observe ourselves when our minds 
are indisposed, reluctant and inefficient, we shall 
find that our dominion over our thoughts is lost, 
that attention is dissipated and distracted by a mul- 
titude of unrelated images, which float through the 
fancy,and that all our powers are weakened, because 
discordant and divided. The effect of suffering our 
thoughts to wander without guidance and without 
object is too obvious to have escaped the most 
careless observer. It breaks up all our habits of 
regular inquiry, indisposes us for any thing which 
requires seriousness and patience, and especially 
unfits us for meditation on divine things, which from 
their nature the mind is with so much difficulty 
brought steadily to contemplate. If then we de- 
sire to effect any thing valuable in this short life ; 
if we seek to use our talents according to the pur- 
poses of the Giver ; if we would improve our own 
minds for the service of God, and the scenes of 
eternity ; and contribute what we can. to the hap- 
6 



42 



GOVERNMENT OP THE THOUGHTS. 



piness and improvement of our fellow men, we 
must learn to control our thoughts, restrain our 
vain and wandering imaginations, and seek to 
make the proper business of l;fe in our various 
callings, and the duties of devotion at their ap- 
pointed seasons, fill and occupy our m:nds. 

II. That our thoughts should be brought under 
discipline, is necessary, in the second place, for our 
happiness in actual" life, and to fit us for its common 
scenes and duties. A great deal of misery is pro- 
duced, particularly among those, who have no ab- 
sorbing occupation, and those in whom the illusions 
of youth have not been corrected by the expe- 
rience of actual life, by indulging the imagina- 
tion in forming schemes and hopes of visionary 
felicity ; or as it is sometimes called, " building 
castles in the air." It is indeed very delight- 
ful to give the reins to the thoughts, to send 
fancy on the wing from this world of imperfection 
and pain, and sorrow and sin, to scenes where eve- 
ry thing is perfect, happy and fair ; where nature 
wears an eternal bloom, where the skies are always 
blue, and the winds always balmy ; where children 
are always virtuous, friends never faithless, and 
fortune is never fickle ; where the eye knows no 
tear, and the heart no pang. 

But this is not life as we must expect to find it 
This is not the world in which we are to live, and 
in which we are to act. It is not intended that 
this state of trial should ever realize such dreams 



GOVERNMENT OF THE THOUGHTS. 



43 



of fancy. And the effects of indulging this lux- 
ury of vain imagination are neither salutary nor 
innocent. If we could descend, indeed, from these 
airy fabrics of unreal felicity, and return as before 
to the common duties of life, the harshest epithet 
which we could apply to this employment would 
be, that it was useless. But both our happiness 
and our fitness for our duties are lessened by it. 
When we awake from these delusions, we feel the 
full force of the contrast betweenwhat we see and 
what we have imagined. The scenes and duties 
of common life appear tame and insipid, after gaz- 
ing on the beautiful creations of fancy. The ef- 
fects on the mind are precisely similar to those 
produced by works of fiction, except that in this 
case we read merely the fiction of another, and 
in that, we make the romance for ourselves ; and 
are therefore more in danger of mistaking it for 
reality. The realities of life must always fall far 
short of the pictures of fancy. When we descend 
from the lofty regions where in imagination we 
have been dwelling, and are called on to perform 
the common place duties of good husbands, and 
wives, and fathers, and children, and citizen?, 
which of course can very seldom call us to feel 
much either of rapture or of anguish, we miss the 
strong stimulus to which our passions have been ac- 
customed. We find chat we have been nourishing 
a sickly and fastidious delicacy, which revolts at 
the plain and homely, and sometimes coarse arid 



44 



GOVERNMENT OP THE THOUGHTS. 



disgusting employments, to which we are destined. 
A spirit of discontent and unhappiness is apt to 
spring up. We lose our cheerful acquiescence in 
the purposes of Providence, and our ready submis- 
sion to that wisdom which always decides best for 
us. 

I do not say that this is always the effect of any 
degree of indulgence of these vain thoughts, but 
it is the tendency of it, and therefore it is that we 
must seek to banish them. We must refuse our- 
selves the luxury of solitary musing, and building 
castles in the air, and let hope and fancy and me- 
mory be regulated by reason and religion. Our 
expectations from life must become accommodated 
to its true state. We must be contented with the 
mixture of good and evil as it has been mingled 
for us, and not expect that w r e are born, with a pe- 
culiar destiny, to a happiness and perfection which 
is denied to others. If indeed it were nothing 
more than an unprofitable waste of time, that 
alone would be reason enough to confine this dissi- 
pation of thought, and restrain its irregularities. 
Enough surely of life is spent unprofitably, with- 
out giving any of the little, which remains, to the 
delusions of visionary happiness. 

III. But the necessity of regulating our thoughts 
will appear more serious, when we consider their 
influence on our moral character. All action has 
its origin in the mind. The thought is the rudi- 
ment of the deed. Meditation produces desire? 



GOVERNMENT OF THE THOUGHTS. 45 

and desire leads to practice. If then we would 
have our actions right, we must make our thoughts 
pure, and learn to forbear to think on what we are 
forbidden to do. 

The manner in which evil thoughts are connect- 
ed with bad actions is obvious. There is no one. 
who is yet innocent, who is not shocked by the 
idea of crimes, when they appear in all their mag- 
nitude and deformity. No one ever leaped over 
the limits of virtue into the confines of confirmed 
vice, at a single bound. On the contrary, the ex- 
clamation, "Is thy servant a dog that he should do 
this thing," is the natural impulse of every man's 
mind, whose conscience is yet unseared, at the very 
suggestion of atrocious guilt. But by revolving 
with pleasure the safety, facility, or advantages, of 
a wicked deed, he finds his constancy waver, his 
resolution relax, his detestation soften. The idea of 
some fraudulent stratagem or scene of guilty plea- 
sure, which at first perhaps was admitted into the 
mind from curiosity merely, is next regarded with 
complacency ; comes at length to be cherished 
with fondness ; at last assumes the form of desire ; 
and how nearly allied is desire to transgression, 
there are too many of us, alas, who know ! What 
we allow ourselves to wish, we are soon induced to 
attempt to gain. He who suffers his thoughts and 
wishes to dwell too long on the pleasures and ad- 
vantages which he should derive from what ano- 
ther possesses, will begin to reconcile his mind to 



46 



GOVERNMENT OF THE THOUGHTS. 



some unlawful measure for procuring it. He, who 
suifers his imagination to be filled with images of 
guilty and degrading pleasure, will at length find 
his desire irresistibly stimulated to gratification. 
Every moment spent in meditation on sin increases 
its dangerous power over us, till at length the idea 
of pleasure overcomes the sense of guilt ; the last 
limit of innocence is, though perhaps timidly and 
reluctantly, past — we enter into the confines of sin — « 
it may be, never to return. 

We are thus irresistibly led to the conclusion, 
that he who would govern his actions by the laws 
of virtue, must regulate his thoughts by those of 
reason and religion. It is not possible that a man 
should walk outwardly in the law of God, who is 
constantly feeding his imagination with the plea- 
sures of sin. The passions will at last act. It is 
difficult to stop when we have inflamed ourselves 
with every possible incentive to advance ; to ab- 
stain, when appetite is sharpened to its keenest 
edge. Of what therefore we are forbidden to do, 
we must learn to forbid ourselves to think ; and 
make the propriety of action a test of the pro- 
priety of thought. If it is wrong to gratify re- 
venge, it is wrong to dwell on it in imagination. 
If we must resist the allurements of pleasure, 
we must refuse to contemplate them. We must 
not seek to indemnify ourselves for the restraints 
which we impose on our actions, by the smful indul- 
gences of imagination. There must be no discor- 



GOVERNMENT OF THE THOUGHTS. 



47 



dance between the inward and outward man ; 
thought, word, and deed, must be constantly and 
inseparably united* 

Let us then seek to lav the foundation of virtue 
deeply and permanently in hoi) thoughts; and 
keep the recesses of the heart pure from the in- 
trusion of guilt. It is easy to stifle vice, while it 
yet exists half formed and immature in the 
thoughts ; but if we sulfer it to live there, and ga- 
ther strength, it will at length become too power- 
ful for our controul, and sting the unguarded bo- 
som which has fostered and cherished it. We 
must hold no parley with sin, if we would not be- 
come its victim and its slave. Say not that it is 
safe merely to listen to sin; that there can be no 
harm in merely suffering our thoughts to gaze up- 
on it; we can still always deny ; we can always 
retreat, when Ave please ; we still remain masters 
of our actions. My friends, we deceive ourselves. 
All that sin asks of us, is to think of it. It is mad- 
ness to contend on equal terms with the eloquence 
of passion. She will first charm you to silence, 
then deceive your reason into conviction, and then 
lead you utterly from God. There is no safety 
but in eternal and irreconcilable war with it. 

To meditate on sin is the more dangerous, be- 
cause it may be indulged in the deepest solitude, 
where it escapes the awe of observation, and the 
restraints of public opinion. The undermining 
process of internal corruption may be secretly go- 



18 



GOVERNMENT OF THE THOUGHTS. 



ing on in the mind, while all without appears love- 
ly, innocent, and pure. We are called on, there- 
fore, by our love of openness, and detestation of 
hypocrisy, to make the thoughts of our minds cor- 
respond to the external character of our actions, 
to disdain to display one character to the world, 
and have another in the secret places of the 
heart ; to be unwilling to owe our estimation 
among men only to their ignorance of the real 
state of our desires. A good man will seek to 
have his thoughts and actions one ; to own a heart 
so pure, as that he may be able to defy the keen- 
est inquisition of the human race. 

There remains yet a more solemn consideration. 
It is, that however we may succeed in concealing 
our thoughts from the world, there is an eye 
which constantly fastens its observations on us, to 
which the darkness and the light are both ali,*e, 
and which can pierce the thickest veil with which 
we cover our hearts. We may deceive our fellow 
men, but God we cannot deceive ; and " He will 
bring into judgment every secret thing, whether it 
be good or whether it be evil." 



SERMON V 



SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED. 

PSALM CXXXIX. 23, 24. 

Search me, O God, and know my heart ; try me and 
know my thoughts ; and see if there be any wick- 
ed way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting, 

Nothing at first view may seem more wholly pla- 
ced beyond control than the thought of man. It 
not only escapes all external power and authority; 
but it is not even restrained within the limits of 
nature and reality. No bounds can be set to its 
excursions. It passes in a moment from earth to 
heaven, numbers the stars, weighs their masses, 
traces their courses and predicts their revolutions. 
While the body is confined to a single planet, along 
which it creeps with pain and difficulty, thought 
can at once transport us into the most distant parts 
of the universe, or even into the illimitable regions 
of space. The conception of the mind outruns 
incalculably the performance of the hand, and we 
can contrive in minutes, what we can only slowly 
execute in years. 



50 GOVERNMENT OF THE THOUGHTS. 



To confine within rules a power so restless and 
excursive might seem at first too hard a task to be 
attempted. Yet it is a command of the gospel of 
Christ, that we should confine its wanderings and 
repress its irregularities ; and we may be sure, that 
whatever God has made necessary, he has also 
made possible. It is a command which is founded 
on the most deep and intimate knowledge of the 
moral nature of man. The connexion between 
thought and action is so unavoidable, that if the 
propensities of our nature are to be subjected to 
regulation at all, the check must be laid on the 
thought, or it will be in vain to prohibit the ac- 
tion. If to regulate the thoughts be impossible, 
then is virtue itself impracticable ; and to call on 
us to obey its laws is only cruel and insulting mock- 
ery. But this we know to be false. The con- 
sciousness of responsibility is written on the hu- 
man heart, in characters too deep and lasting 
to be argued away by any sophistry ; and if we 
are commanded to regulate the thoughts, He 
who gives the command, will give also the pow- 
er of obedience. For every temptation with 
which we can be assailed in the world, there is a 
power within us, greater and mightier than that 
temptation. We have reason, to discern between 
good and evil, both in their present and remote 
consequences. We have freedom to resolve, we 
have conscience and revelation to teach us what 
to resolve, and we may have, if we ask it, the 



GOVERNMENT OF THE THOUGHTS. 



grace of God, and his protecting spirit, to sanctify 
all the good which we desire and intend. 

I endeavoured this morning to impress on you 
the importance of governing the thoughts, by 
showing, in the first place, its necessity to the full 
and successful exertion of our mental powers ; in 
the next place to our happiness here, and our fit- 
ness for the scenes and duties of actual life ; and 
thirdly to our virtue, and consequently to our ever- 
lasting well-being. I shall now endeavour to illus- 
trate the practicability of this duty, and point out 
some of the means, which may assist us in perform- 
ing it. 

We must begin by conceding, that perhaps no 
man can so wholly regulate attention by his will, 
that his ideas shall always come and go exactly at 
his command. There is a constant succession of 
thoughts, an ever-changing current of ideas, pas- 
sing through the mind, by which our past sensa- 
tions and impressions, combined and compounded in 
innumerable ways, present themselves to the at- 
tention. This train of our ideas, as it is called, is 
so far involuntary, that it proceeds, like the act of 
breathing, without the necessary concurrence of 
our will, and must be in perpetual motion, whether 
we sleep or wake, whether we observe or ne- 
glect it. We cannot by any effort of mind alto- 
together stop its course ; as any one will per- 
ceive, who shall attempt, even for a few mo- 
ments, to exclude every thought from his mind. 
He will speedily find, that in spite of himself, » 



52 



GOVERNMENT OF THE THOUGHTS. 



variety of ideas of whatever he may have felt or 
done in life, will present themselves unbidden to 
his memory. This involuntary recurrence of our 
ideas undoubtedly proves so much as this, that the 
mere entrance of a wicked imagination into the 
mind is not in itself criminal. 

Evil into the mind of God or man 

May come and go, so unapproved* and leave 

No spot or stain behind. 

But though we cannot absolutely forbear to 
think of something, this train of our ideas by no 
means proceeds in an arbitrary and unconnected 
manner, and is far from being independent of our 
control. Though the mind cannot indeed be left 
wholly vacant of thought, it rests with us to deter- 
mine what kind of thoughts shall occupy it. We 
may arrest any idea we choose, in its course through 
the mind, dwell upon it, expand it, and call up and 
arrange a multitude of others related to it, Just 
so far as this power is lost, reason itself is eclipsed. 
It is this which enables us to think connectedly and 
long on any subject that we choose to contemplate, 
and to determine the class and colouring of the 
ideas which shall occupy our attention. It in ef- 
fect amounts to a power of excluding from our 
minds any thought, which we may be unwilling 
should enter it. For though we cannot by a direct 
and despotic effort of will banish any idea, which 
presents itself, we can indirectly exclude it, by giv- 
ing the mind another direction. That is to say. 



GOVERNMENT OF THE THOUGHTS. 



53 



we may prevent the entrance of wrong ideas into 
the mind, by always keeping it full of those which 
are right. No man, perhaps, in this world, we must 
allow, possesses this pow r er in a perfect degree. But 
a good man is continually making approaches to it. 
His efforts arc constantly aided by the law of ha- 
bit, by which the yoke of our duties is made each 
day more easy, and their burthen more light ; the 
force of temptation diminished, the power of re- 
sistance increased ; till at length, we can conceive 
of a mind so perfectly governed, that not a thought 
shall find its way into it, which the God of purity 
himself might not approve. 

I fear, my friends, lest a subject, in itself simple, 
may have been made obscure by my endeavours 
to explain it. I mean merely to insist on the fact, 
which remains a fact whether we succeed in ex- 
plaining it or not, that we have the power of deter- 
mining the direction, which our thoughts shall take; 
and that if evil thoughts gain a permanent posses- 
sion of our minds, it is because we voluntarily 
cherish and invite them, or at least do not use our 
best efforts to exclude them. On this subject it is 
safe to make an appeal to experience. Ask of 
any man, who has been drawn into crimes, and he 
will tell you how easily he might have at first re- 
pelled the temptation; how readily his mind would 
have obeyed a call to another object ; how weak 
the allurement became while he was engaged in 
any regular occupation, till he has permitted his 
thoughts and wishes again to fix and fasten on it, 



54 



GOVERNMENT OF THE THOUGHTS. 



and suffered the dangerous eloquence of the senses 
to rouse his passions into activity. 

The fact then, that the government of the 
thoughts is practicable, may, I think be safely as- 
sumed as incontestible ; and I shall employ the 
time which remains, in suggesting some of the 
means, which will assist us in bringing them under 
regulation. 

The first means which I shall suggest for the 
regulation of the thoughts, and that indeed with- 
out which all others are ineffectual, is a steady and 
systematic employment of our time ; a vigorous 
exercise of our faculties in some useful occupation. 
A great part of the wretchedness of human life, 
we all know, proceeds from the want of something 
to do. But this is not the worst effect of idleness. 
It is impossible that we should long be unemployed, 
and keep our innocence. The mind, at least in its 
waking hours, can never cease to think ; and if it 
be not thinking of something useful and good, it 
will infallibly soon be occupied with what is perni- 
cious and sinful. The demons of temptation al- 
ways hover round a vacant, listless, and unoccupied 
mind, and mark it for their prey. In the shape of 
evil thoughts they tyrannize over the mind like the 
fabled seducer of our first mother. They fill it with 

" Illusions, as they list, phantoms and dreams 
Distempered, discontented thoughts, 
Vain hopes, vain aims, inordinate desire, 
Blown up with high conceits engendering pride," 



GOVERNMENT OF THE THOUGHTS. 



Next in their effects to idleness, are those trifling 
and insipid occupations, which take no permanent 
hold on the attention. To do any thing, indeed, 
that is innocent, is better than absolute sloth, and 
a free permission of the thoughts to wander where 
they please. But it is the duty of every Christian 
man to propose to himself some high and useful 
object to live for, some end that is worthy of the 
pursuit of an immortal being. We may always 
find in the cultivation and enlargement of our 
moral and intellectual powers ; in the duties of our 
calling ; in the care of those entrusted to us ; in 
seeking that our fellow men may be made good 
and wise, that God may be honoured, that the 
blessings of the gospel may be diffused; the best 
security for the holiness of our thoughts, and the 
innocence of our lives. But at all events let us 
never permit ourselves to be idle while there 
is any thing, that is not criminal, to be done. At 
the first approach of evil thoughts, let us force 
ourselves to toil, and however reluctant the mind 
may be, still bind it down to its task. By God's 
grace, nothing that is necessary for us is impracti- 
cable, and with every temptation, if we are true to 
ourselves, he will make a way for our escape. 

A second aid to assist us in the regulation of our 
thoughts, is a constant use of the means of religion, 
and particularly of prayer. Reading the scrip- 
tures, attendance on the ordinances of religion, 
every thing which increases our belief in the doc- 



56 



GOVERNMENT OF THE THOUGHTS. 



trines and promises of the gospel, must be power- 
ful instruments to assist us in withstanding the 
temptation of vain thoughts and unholy desires. 
" It is faith," says St. Paul, " which quenches the 
fiery darts of the devil " which overcomes the 
world," says St. John. It is a breastplate, and a 
shield. By faith God is pleased ; by faith we are 
sanctified ; by faith we are saved ; and faith, we 
are told, cometh by hearing, and hearing by the 
word of God. And if we listen to the result of 
the experience of those, who have longest fought 
the good fight of faith, they will tell us, that 
among the most effectual and certain means of 
resisting the irruption of unholy thoughts into the 
mind, is humble and hearty prayer. " Search me, 
O God, and know my heart, try me and know my 
thoughts, and see if there be any wicked way in 
me, and lead me in the way everlasting," is not only 
the genuine language of devotion, but the language 
also of a mind, that had known the power of 
temptation, and knew also where to fly for refuge. 
Our security from sin must be always placed in a 
humble sense of our own weakness, and a con- 
sciousness that we need the divine assistance. Let 
us then live much in communion with God ; and 
from every blessing, suffering, and fall, take occa- 
sion to breathe our gratitude, submission, and pe- 
nitence. This is to work out our salvation with 
fear and trembling. And we may always have 
this confidence, that God never deserts the humble 



GOVERNMENT OF THE THOUGHTS. 



57 



and contrite spirit, which in the hour of peril 
pours forth its fervent prayer to him. 

Another means to assist us in bringing our 
thoughts under a regular and salutary discipline, is 
to cherish an habitual sense of the ever during 
presence of God, and a dread of laying open to 
his pure inspection a soul filled with carnal and vo- 
luptuous thoughts. Let us remember that the 
same God, who dwelleth above, hath his ways up- 
on the earth ; that he not only numbereth the 
sanctities of heaven, but knoweth the thoughts of 
man ; that he not only walketh, where the planets 
wander, but searcheth the secret places of the 
heart. Let us seek to have a deep impression of 
his character and perfections, and we shall find 
every new view of his glory to be leading us 
on to love, imitation and obedience. Let us re- 
member that his pure and holy law punishes the 
adultery of the heart, condemns the malice of the 
thoughts, and ordains that all our outward and vi- 
sible virtue should be the faithful sign of inward 
and spiritual purity. 

We shall find, in the fourth place, that the 
greatest aid in excluding vain and wicked thoughts 
from the mind, is to fix our contemplations on the 
eternal world. Let us think of the shortness of 
life, and the vanity of its pleasures and pursuits ; 
of the certainty of death and judgment ; of the 
glories of heaven, and of the wretchedness of im- 
penitent guilt. These are the thoughts which will 
8 



58 



GOVERNMENT OF THE THOUGHTS. 



quell the power of temptation, and subdue the 
madness of passion; and with which nothing un- 
holy and impure will dare to intermingle. Let us 
then think of the world, where our Redeemer has 
his abode ; where God unveils his glorious face ; 
where are the spirits of just men made perfect ; 
and where the irreclaimably wicked cannot come. 

The consideration of the eternal connexion be- 
tween holiness and happiness, sin and misery, if it 
be brought home to the mind, must surely secure 
it from the intrusion of every vain and criminal 
imagination. An internal principle of purity will 
impart its steady character and unvarying com- 
plexion to all our actions. One victory over sin 
will ensure another. We shall meet temptation 
accustomed to vanquish it, and come off conquerors, 
and more than conquerors, over our spiritual foes. 
And when at the last great day of account, we 
stand in the presence of our God, we shall meet 
him with well grounded confidence and hope. 
We shall find that we have not toiled in vain ; that 
we have not fixed our thoughts on heaven, and 
kept the faith in vain ; but that a crown of glory- 
is reserved for us, which cannot fade away. 



SERMON VI 



TRANSIENT RESOLUTION. 

PHILIPPIANS, IV. 1. 

Therefore, my brethren dearly beloved and longed for, 
my joy and crown, so stand fast in the Lord, my 
dearly beloved. 

This affectionate exhortation of the Apostle to 
constancy and perseverance in the christian pro- 
fession, was rendered peculiarly necessary by the 
circumstances of his early converts. It was ad- 
dressed to men, who, in embracing Christianity, had 
exposed themselves to some of the heaviest of 
earthly evils. They were the objects of the scorn 
and hatred of their fellow-men; and were not 
merely obliged to renounce the hope of fortune 
and fame, but to be prepared to endure persecu- 
tion, and, it might be, death itself, in the cause of 
Christ. The temptation to be false to their re- 
ligious obligations under these circumstances, or at 
least so far to relax them as that they might be 
restored to the favour of the world, was very 



60 



TRANSIENT RESOLUTION. 



great ; and the Apostle, knowing the weakness of 
our frail nature, could not but tremble for the stead- 
fastness of his converts, for whose conversion he 
had laboured with so earnest and pure a zeal, and 
whose faith in the gospel was the glory and solace 
of his ministry. His warm and affectionate heart, 
filled with a sense of their danger, pours itself out 
in the words of our text. " Therefore, my breth- 
ren, dearly beloved and longed for, my joy and 
crown, so stand fast in the Lord, my dearly belov- 
ed." 

The circumstances of believers at the present 
day no doubt are greatly changed. To be thought 
a sincere, uniform, unaffected, exemplary chris- 
tian, so far from being a disgrace, is among us a 
title to confidence and respect. Still, however, 
the exhortation of the Apostle has not become su- 
perfluous. The sources from which our tempta- 
tions to wavering and inconstancy in the christian 
profession arise, are different, it is true, but they 
are not less real, nor less dangerous. We see too 
many examples of infirmity of christian purpose ; 
we feel, if we know anything of our own hearts, too 
many seductions from the path of our christian du- 
ty ; not to acknowledge that we need often to be 
reminded of our danger, and earnestly exhorted 
to " stand fast" in our christian profession. Let 
us then review at this time some of the causes of 
our inconstancy in religious resolutions, and some of 
the cautions and counsels which our danger should 
suggest. 



TRANSIENT RESOLUTION. 



61 



I. The first cause, which I shall mention, and that 
to which perhaps all others might be reduced, is a 
want of a proper impression of the importance of 
the christian character. If we constantly felt, as 
we ought to feel, the necessity of being what the 
gospel requires us to be, we should need no exhor- 
tations to steadfastness and perseverance in our 
christian calling. To be a christian, that is to say, 
to be virtuous in the christian sense of virtue, is not 
a thing that is simply useful^ or simply ornamental. 
It is essential. Heaven, and God's eternal favour, 
are suspended on it I speak of those who live in 
a christian land, and enjoy the means of christian 
knowledge and the opportunities of christian im- 
provement. I refer not to their case who are de- 
nied these privileges, nor to that of those who 
from causes distinct from their own perversity or 
negligence, are incredulous as to its claims. But I 
speak of those who have it within their power to 
understand the nature and authority of the gospel ; 
to them, I say, it is a thing absolutely essential to 
become, and to continue Christians. " It is not a 
vain thing ; it is your life." This is saying no more 
of Christianity than this ; that it was not a matter 
of indifference whether God gave it to us or not. 
It is saying only, that Jesus Christ did not come 
into the world, and lay down his life, for a matter 
of little moment. It is simply asserting, that if it 
is true that we have in the gospel a revelation of 
the will of God, and a certain state of the mind 



1)2 TRANSIENT RESOLUTION. 

and heart is there declared to be such as He re- 
quires in order to admission to his favour, then it is 
of the last importance, that we should comply with 
this condition. There is no object on earth to be 
compared in value for a moment with this " pearl 
of great price." 

But though this statement of the importance of 
the christian character will hardly be objected to in 
theory, it is not always practically felt, as it ought to 
be, by those who take the name of christians, and 
enter on the obligations of a religious life. There 
are many who content themselves with very slight 
and superficial notions on this subject. They are 
christians, because they have a general belief that 
Christianity is of divine origin, and a prevailing im- 
pression that it is creditable, desirable, and safe, to 
be numbered among believers. While therefore the 
gospel interferes not much with their favourite 
pursuits, they continue sufficiently steady in its out- 
ward profession. But they feel very imperfectly 
its controlling and sanctifying power. It occupies 
only a subordinate place in their thoughts. Their 
hearts' best and warmest affections are given to oth- 
er objects. Instead of seeking first and chiefly the 
kingdom of God and his righteousness, they desire 
to be first rich, then holy ; first learned, then 
good ; first great and elevated, then pure and de- 
vout ; they would first exhaust the world, and then 
they will be ready to turn their affections supreme- 
ly on heaven. With so divided an empire, or ra- 



TRANSIENT RESOLUTION. 



63 



ther with so subordinate a rule in the breast, it is 
evident that what influence religion possesses must 
always be insecure. When it comes in competi- 
tion with the riches, pleasure, or power, which 
they pursue as the first and chief ends of life, it 
is found unequal to the contest. If one or the 
other must be given up, it is their character and 
hopes as christians, which they feel they can best 
spare. If we look over the melancholy list of 
those, who have sacrificed the religion which they 
once embraced, we shall find that their apostacy is 
to be traced, more than to any other cause, to a 
want of a profound and practical conviction of its 
supreme importance. 

II. Another cause of infirm and transient reli- 
gious resolutions, is an imperfect knowledge of the 
nature of the Christian character. We do not 
study the requirements of the gospel in their full 
extent ; the labour and vigilance which its duties 
require ; the difficulties and discouragements which 
it may call us to encounter. It too often happens 
that the Christian profession is entered on without 
counting its cost, without weighing its consequences. 
The fabric that is raised is tottering and insecure, 
because the foundation on which it stands is not 
laid broad and deep. I speak of the case of those 
who begin a religious course under some tempo- 
rary excitement, and not from a full and solemn 
and well-meditated conviction. The truth, beauty, 
and value of religion, have sometimes, perhaps. 



64 



TRANSIENT RESOLUTION. 



struck their minds with a peculiar force. They 
are interested in some discourse which they have 
heard, or some book which they have read ; and 
some salutary compunctions, some good resolutions, 
enter their minds. Or it may be that affliction 
has made their hearts tender, and retirement has 
collected their thoughts and given birth to good 
meditations. They open their subdued and sof- 
tened spirits to the gracious promises of the gospel : 
and they feel for the time that the vanities of life 
are worthless, and that God and holiness are their 
supreme good. They resolve to change what is 
wrong in their course of life. They will think 
habitually of their destination. They will devote 
themselves to the gospel, and adorn the profession 
of their faith. Alas, that so fair a prospect should 
ever be clouded. Sad indeed if these shoots of 
piety so green and vigorous should ever languish 
and fade, and leave nothing to be seen, but the 
withered remains of too hasty good intentions! 
But so it is ; when we act only under a momen- 
tary excitement, when we have only indistinct 
and unsatisfactory notions of religion, when there 
has been no faithful examination of the nature 
and extent of its duties, our christian resolutions 
must always be insecure. We may find the work 
of reformation harder than we thought ; the denial 
of our appetites, the control of our passions, the 
discipline of our affections, the regulation of our 
thoughts, feelings and habits, may be found unex- 



TRA NS 1E.\ T RES OLU T10IS". 



65 



pectedly arduous ; and our resolutions if taken 
without any foresight of these difficulties, may 
falter and give way. They, who had expected to 
find no obstacles in their path, are checked and 
shaken by the first impediments. The first flame 
of persecution scorches them ; indifference chills 
them ; ridicule abashes, temptation seduces them ; 
and the sacrifices which conscience calls on them 
to make, they find to be greater than they can 
afford. 

III. A third cause of infirmity of christian pur- 
pose, is a want of a proper knowledge of our- 
selves. We may have thought of the importance, 
and may be acquainted with the duties of the 
christian profession, without having sufficiently 
considered our own preparation for them. We 
set out in the christian race with too much confi- 
dence; with an over-estimate of our strength. 
We have not thought of the deceitfulness of our 
hearts, the extent of our corruptions, the power of 
our passions and lusts, the number and strength of 
our tendencies to sin, and our need of perpetual 
humility and vigilance. This is a danger to which 
the young are peculiarly exposed. They may en- 
gage in a religious course with this false opinion of 
their own strength, and set out with alacrity and 
zeal, and for a while press forward with vigour and 
success. But as they advance with little caution 
and self examination, they find that the germs of 
passion, concealed in their minds, are quickened in- 
9 



TRANSIENT RESOLUTION, 



to life and strength. They find the allurements 
of guilty pleasure more powerful than they dream- 
ed they could be. Fashion makes them her slave. 
Dissipation swallows up their affections. Their 
sense of religion is insensibly diminished ; its du- 
ties grow irksome and distasteful ; they become lo- 
vers of pleasures more than lovers of God. Or 
if they escape the dangers of youthful lusts, they 
may be overpowered by the " masterless passions'' 
of riper years. The cares of the world, and the 
deceitfulness of riches, the fondness for show, and 
the passion for honour, all spring up in the mind 
to choke the word, and render it fruitless. They 
are not armed against these dangers, because they 
had presumptuously believed that they were proof 
against their power. Their resolution melts, when 
they discover the hardness which a good soldier of 
Christ is called to endure, in his conflict with his 
internal foes. Their diligence gradually relaxes. 
They fall away — and religion weeps over her weak 
and degenerate children, while sin, with smiles of 
triumph, spreads out her hundred arms, to embrace 
again the returning slaves of her tyranny. 

IV. Another, and the last cause of infirm and 
transient resolutions w r hich I shall at present men- 
tion, is the false security into which many chris- 
tians are apt to fall. The foil) of desisting too soon 
from successful labours, and the haste of enjoying ad- 
vantages before they are secured, are as often fatal 
in religion as they are in the common pursuits of life. 



TRANSIENT RESOLUTION. 



(57 



it is too common for those who have begun and 
prosecuted a successful course of religion, to ima- 
gine that they have attained enough of perfec- 
tion ; that their religious habits have become es- 
tablished and secure ; that they are beyond the 
danger of falling ; and that they may now sit 
down in the peaceful enjoyment of their religious 
acquisitions. They forget that the warfare of a 
christian lasts for life. They forget that even the 
Apostle Paul himself thinks it necessary to say, 
"Not as though I had already attained, either 
were already perfect. I count not myself to have 
apprehended, but forgetting those things which 
are behind, I press toward the mark, for the prize 
of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus." They 
forget all this, and while they sleep in security, the 
fabric of their christian character is silently under- 
mined. They allow themselves in petty deviations 
from the strict path of duty. They lose that sa- 
lutary timidity which made them dread to sully 
the purity of their virtue by the slightest stain. 
Perhaps without perceiving themselves when it 
was that their religious ardor first began to forsake 
them, they grow gradually cold, and negligent, and 
insensible, and at length become alienated from the 
life of God. 

Such are some of the dangers of want of per- 
severance in our religious resolutions. Let the 
consideration of them teach us a lesson of serious- 
ness, of caution, of watchfulness, and humility 



68 



TRANSIENT RESOLUTION. 



Let us seek to settle in our minds, on entering a 
religious course, a deep conviction of the importance 
of the christian character. Let us remember that 
as Christ is true, and God is faithful, this character 
is essentially connected with our eternal well being. 
Let this conviction lead us to the conscientious use 
of all the means and instruments of holy living 
which the gospel reveals. Let us often weigh the 
nature and obligations of a religious life. We are 
not indeed to take overstrained and extravagant 
views of human duty, but it is reasonable that we 
should remember, that to form so great and glorious 
a character, as that of a true christian, must be a 
Avork of labour and care, blessed by the spirit of 
God. It is impossible, that such a thing should be 
a cheap attainment. Let us look steadily in the 
face of all the difficulties and discouragements, 
which beset the christian's path, and count fairly 
the cost of our religious engagements. Let us be 
on our guard against the deceitfulness of our own 
hearts, and never forget our liability to fall. Let 
us lay the foundation of the christian character in 
a deep humility ; and at no period of life, neither 
in the innocence of youth, nor the confidence of 
manhood, nor the stability of old age, let us think 
the work of religion done ; never let us imagine 
that we have no longer any need to watch and 
pray, that we enter not into temptation. 

In the representation which has now been given 
of the difficulties of a religious life, and the dan- 



TRANSIENT RESOLUTION. 



69 



gers to which our good resolutions are exposed, 
there may be some who will find an excuse for he- 
sitation and delay. Who, they may ask, is suffici- 
ent for these things ; who but must shrink from 
the fearful hazards of declension and apostacy 
from their plighted resolutions? But though I 
cannot conceal from you, and would not lessen in 
your eyes, the duties, the responsibility, and the 
dangers, of a christian profession, I am sure, that 
if you examine the subject as you ought, you will 
find from it motives to quicken you, rather than 
arguments to excuse and encourage delay, in the 
performance of your duties as believers in Christ. 
True, there is danger that your resolutions, if you 
form them, may be unstable and transitory, but 
there is danger also, and the greatest danger, if 
you form them not. Will his condition be worse, 
think you, who has attempted to do his duty and 
failed, than his, who has voluntarily and wholly ne- 
glected it ? Will he fall under a heavier condem- 
nation, who has sincerely and conscientiously en- 
tered on a course which he believes to be rfglit, 
even though he may not pursue it always with the 
same vigour, than he will, who with a bold impiety 
turns away from the course of duty, and is deaf to 
the invitations of his Saviour? 

But this danger of infirm and transient resolu- 
tions, which deters you, is not such as need to 
alarm you, if your heart be humble, your watch- 
fulness unintermitted. and your prayers to God 



70 



TRANSIENT RESOLUTION. 



sincere and persevering. He will vouchsafe to 
you all the aid you ask. You do not serve a hard 
and inexorable master. He measures our charac- 
ters by our endeavours, more than by our success. 
He knows our frame ; He remembers we are but 
dust. No sincere endeavour, no humble desire, no 
virtuous exertion, is ever lost with him. He for- 
gives the weakness which cleaves to our poor na- 
tures, when he sees that we struggle against it, 
and that our prevailing desire is to please Him, 
and conform to the gospel of his Son. You have 
no ground for depressing apprehension in the ser- 
vice of such a master, and no just excuse for ne- 
glecting or delaying to obey his commands. Be 
exhorted then, my friends, you who have never yet 
entered with resolution on a religious life, and de- 
dicated yourselves to God ; be intreated to taste 
and see that the Lord is gracious. And you, my 
beloved brethren, who own the sway of our mer- 
ciful Prince and Saviour ; who have enrolled your- 
selves as servants of the cross, as aspirants after 
the purity and happiness of heaven; you, dearly 
beloved and longed for, my joy and my crown, 
may God enable you ever to stand fast in the Lord.* 
and thus to make your calling and election sure. 



SERMON VII 



LOVE TO OUR NEIGHBOUR. 

ROM. XIII. 9. 

And if there be any other commandment, it is briefly 
comprehended in this saying, namely, Thou shalt 
love thy neighbour as thyself. 

Of those dazzling qualities, which receive most of 
the world's admiration, it has pleased the Almigh- 
ty Disposer to make an unequal distribution among 
his creatures. And if it is right that we should 
exist in this world in a state of trial and discipline, 
it seems impossible that this inequality of advan- 
tages should be wholly avoided. Many tempta- 
tions, in resisting which the purity of a good cha- 
racter is most displayed, and many virtues of the 
fairest form and highest dignity, owe their exist- 
ence wholly to that state of things, which is pro- 
duced by this unequal distribution. 

But though for wise purposes, God permits this 
inequality to exist, yet even in this world, there 
are some things, which tend to reduce it within 



72 



LOVE TO OUR NEIGHBOUR. 



narrower limits than we might at first suppose. 
The advantages of wealth, and power, and know- 
ledge, may be measured out to different men in 
very unequal portions. But there is one distinc- 
tion, and that too of the highest lustre, which is 
equally open to the attainment of all ; I mean that 
which is given by the possession of a benevolent 
heart. You may not be able to follow one man 
in the eagle flight of his genius; you cannot per- 
haps aspire to that dignity and preeminence to 
which the wisdom of another is justly entitled ; 
you cannot vie with a third in opulence and splen- 
dour, or in that power of doing good which is gi- 
ven to him by his wealth. But there is one thing 
in which, humble though you may be in your pow- 
ers, and restricted in your means, there is one thing 
in which you may yet equal, nay, surpass them all. 
It is in being delighted to contemplate, and as far 
as in your power to increase, the happiness of 
others. Nor will any one think this quality unim- 
portant, who observes the dignity which is attached 
to it in every page of the gospel. It is one of the 
two commandments on which hang all the law and 
the prophets. It is the virtue, which under the 
name of benevolence, or love to our neighbour, 
implies all others. It is the charity without which 
we are nothing ; the charity which never fails ; 
which when the gems of monarchs shall grow dim, 
and the laurel of earthly renown shall wither, will 
still endure in undecaying lustre; the charity, 



LOVE TO OUR NEIGHBOUR. 



73 



which when faith itself shall be lost in sight, and 
hope be swallowed up in fruition, shall still survive, 
and constitute the happiness of heaven itself. 

Let us give our present attention to the nature, 
extent, and limitations, of this all important virtue, 
and to the motives which we have to attempt its 
acquisition. 

" Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself." 
This statement of the doctrine of benevolence, 
like all the precepts of our Lord, is admirably 
simple, comprehensive, and practicable. He does 
not tell us to fix our affections on an abstract and 
metaphysical idea of " being in general." Nor 
does he, with those in modern days who have at- 
tempted to improve on his precepts, confound the 
motive with the rule and criterion of action, and 
destroy all the particular affections toward father, 
brother and friend, by telling us that in every ac- 
tion we are to be governed by a consideration of 
its effects on the general good of the whole human 
race. Nor does he, with other moralists, narrow 
virtue to the mere love of country, or an exclusive 
attachment to our relatives and friends. But a 
rule is given of universal application, which ex- 
tends to every possible case, and comes home at 
once to the feelings and comprehension of every 
man. "Thou shalt love thy neighbour;" that is, 
your love must commence with that part of man- 
kind, with that part of your country, which comes 
within the sphere of your influence. 
10 



74 



LOVE TO OtJR NEIGHBOUR. 



The nature and extent of this affection are de- 
termined by the words of the precept with the 
greatest precision. 44 Thou shalt love thy neigh- 
bour." If any one should ask what is the nature 
of this love, he is only to appeal to his own feel- 
ings ; and whatever he would esteem an act of 
love from his neighbour towards him, that is pre- 
cisely the kind of love which he is to exercise to- 
wards his neighbour. If he need any farther 
commentary, let him read the touching and inimi- 
table tale of the good Samaritan ; and he will 
learn who it is that is his neighbour, and what is 
the kind of love which he is to exercise. If then 
he should ask, what is the extent and degree of 
this love, he will find the limitations of the rule in 
its own words ; " thou shalt love thy neighbour as 
thyself." In the first place let it be observed, you 
are not required to love your neighbour more than 
yourself. Some degree of self love the precept 
evidently supposes necessary and justifiable. The 
love, therefore, which we are called on to exercise, 
is not to be in such a sense disinterested as to re- 
quire us to abandon all consideration of our own 
happiness. We are committed, if I may so speak, 
in charge to ourselves. We are made the guar- 
dians of our own happiness. Our actions will more 
affect ourselves than they possibly can all other 
beings of the human race ; and the general good 
of all is most effectually promoted by each indivi- 
dual paying a just, but, remember, not an exclusive 



LOVE TO OUR NEIGHBOUR. 



75 



regard, to himself. The nature of selfishness may 
be sometimes misunderstood. It does not consist 
in having a proper regard to ourselves ; but in 
having no regard to any one but ourselves. We 
may, therefore, most clearly exhort men at the 
same time to a prudent concern for their own hap- 
piness, in perfect consistency with our exhortations 
that they should have a sincere and affectionate re- 
gard for the happiness of others. 

In the second place the precept does not imply 
that we should, in a strict sense, love our neighbour 
as much as ourselves. This is only saying, that 
the precept does not go the extravagant length of 
asserting that we must literally take as much con- 
cern in the affairs of our neighbour as in our own. 
It seems simply to mean, "Thou shalt love thy 
neighbour" in a similar, proportional manner, as 
really and truly, as thou lovest thyself. In every 
deliberate plan and pursuit in life, we must take 
our neighbour's interest as truly into the account 
as our own ; and only so far love ourselves, as is 
consistent with a sincere interest in the happiness 
of others. In this view of the subject, it seems 
to be only an extension of the principle on which 
the precept is founded ; "whatever ye would that 
men should do unto you, do ye even so unto 
them." An appeal is here made to our self-love, 
to determine what love we should give to our 
neighbour. As much affection, sympathy, and re- 
gard, as you would wish to receive from others. 



76 



LOVE TO OUR NEIGHBOUR. 



that is the measure and rule of the affection, which 
you should give to them. As much interest in the 
welfare of the community as you would wish eve- 
ry other man should take, just so much should you 
feel. The same love to mankind which jou, as a 
member of the human race, would wish to find in 
all your brethren, must you yourself possess. In 
this view of the subject, the law of benevolence 
will require that we should be governed by a sin- 
cere regard to the highest good of all whose hap- 
piness it is in our power to affect ; for this is pre- 
cisely the affection w 7 hich we should each of us 
Avish every other man to cherish. 

The benevolent man, on these principles, is one 
who delights in the contemplation of happiness, 
and feels it his duty to produce the highest possi- 
ble degree of it among mankind. He has escaped 
from all feelings of exclusive self-love. He consi- 
ders himself as a part of one great family. He 
takes as real an interest in the joys and sorrows, 
the interests and pursuits, the hopes and fears, of 
his neighbour, as in his own. It is the wish near- 
est his heart to make himself, and those around 
him, and as far as his influence extends, the w r hole 
human race, enlightened and happy. Nothing, there- 
fore, which interests the happiness of mankind is 
indifferent to him. No creature of God is so 
humble, that his kind actions, or at least his good 
wishes, do not extend to him. No member of the 
human race is sunk so low, even by guilt and sin, 



LOVE TO OUR NEIGHBOUR. 



77 



that his pity at least cannot reach him. Every thing 
harsh and dissonant is subdued in his breast. He suf- 
fers long and is kind. He envies not. He vaunteth 
not himself ; is not puffed up. He does not be- 
have himself unseemly ; seeks not his own; is not 
easily provoked ; thinks no evil. He rejoices not 
in iniquity, but rejoices in the truth. He bears all 
things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures 
all things. 

Such then is the christian virtue which has re- 
ceived the various names of benevolence, charity, 
and love to our neighbour. It commends itself to 
us — by every motive which is best adapted to touch 
the human heart. We are incited to it even by 
the motive with which it appears to be most at 
variance — by the motive of rational self-interest it- 
self. It is the eternal decree of heaven that the 
exclusively selfish man shall be miserable even in 
this world. As he never gives love to any man, 
he can never receive a return of love. He is at 
war with the general good of his species, and is 
therefore in fact the common enemy of mankind. 
His money may command attentions, nay, even 
procure the outward show of respect. But he 
can never receive the homage of an unbought 
smile. He can never receive the warm tribute of 
a truly grateful heart. Wealth is too poor to pur- 
chase love. Power is not strong enough to enchain 
affection. The eye may fall abashed in the pre- 
sence of grandeur ; the lips may chant the praise 



78 



LOVE TO OUR NEIGHBOUR. 



of affluence ; the knee may bend in homage before 
the splendour of authority; but the heart is above 
all bribe, and will give its affections to goodness 
alone. The selfish man is therefore shut out from 
all that gives grace and value to life, all that makes 
life a blessing; for what is existence worth to him 
who has no man's confidence, no man's sympathy, 
no man's love ! 

I might show, that without looking beyond the 
present world, and on the coolest calculation of ra- 
tional self-interest, the exclusively selfish man de- 
feats his own object. There is no necessary op- 
position between self-love and the love of our 
neighbour. It is happiness which we all seek ; 
and happiness consists not in self-love as such, but 
in the gratification of our affections. If I have 
learned to feel a sincere affection for the good of 
my neighbour, I may taste as great and real hap- 
piness in the gratification of the affection, as in any 
one of which self is the exclusive object. The 
man who deliberately seeks the greatest good of 
the whole system of which he is part, feels at 
least as much delight in the pursuit, and as much 
joy in any degree of success, as he who excludes 
from his views every thought but that of personal 
interest, and makes self the great centre of all his 
wishes. This is true, without taking into conside- 
ration the truth, that love to others must always 
beget love from them ; without carrying our views 
to the consequences of our actions in another life : 



LOVE TO OUR NEIGHBOUR. 



79 



and without estimating the happiness which the 
benevolent man must feel, in the consciousness that 
he is acting under the eye of a Being whose na- 
ture is love, and who will regard with complacen- 
cy and affection him who sincerely and humbly 
labours to imitate his perfections. Of the inex- 
pressible worth of this consideration he only can 
judge, who has felt its influence. But such & 
man will tell you, that there is in the hope that we 
are regarded with complacency by God, more 
deep-felt delight than in all which the world has 
to offer of good. Let then the selfish man think 
of this. He may perhaps find that he is sacrificing 
the very end which he proposes to himself; that 
his selfish calculations are as false as they are con- 
temptible and low. He may find that it is no pa- 
radox to say, that even on the principles of self- 
love itself, he is bound to free himself from all 
inordinate and exclusive regard to his own in- 
terest. 

But though even on the calculations of self-love, 
we should be induced to cultivate a benevolent 
disposition, it is recommended to us by motives of 
far higher dignity. There is something in it to 
which the heart of every human being pays invo- 
luntary homage. The whole system of refined 
and gentle manners on which the present age so 
much values itself, is but a poor attempt to imitate 
this virtue. All the artificial courtesies of life, all 
the heartless ceremonies of what is called polite- 



80 



LOVE TO OUR NEIGHBOUR. 



ness, are but the unconscious respect which hypo- 
crisy renders to benevolence. The world feels 
the necessity of "assuming the virtue, though it 
has it not." How fair a scene would life present, 
if all this artificial good will were really what it 
seems to be ; if men's hearts spoke in their words. 
All pride, envy, malice, revenge, and every form 
in which the bad passions of our nature display 
themselves, would vanish away. The beams of 
mutual kindness, reflected from every face, would 
make constant sunshine in every soul. The reign 
of universal benevolence would cause the wil- 
dernesses and solitary places of the earth to be 
glad, and all its moral deserts to rejoice and 
blossom like the rose. Such a scene as this, how- 
ever, is but the visionary painting of imagination, 
the reality of which no eye in this world shall 
ever see. 

But though the universal reign of benevolence 
is not here to be looked for, each man may yet 
contribute something to extend its influence. And 
what higher motive can any man require, than that 
which he will find in the contemplation of the 
character of that blessed being, who has left us 
an example that we should follow his steps. It 
was benevolence which led our Saviour to heal 
our sins and woes, to minister to our infirmities, to 
soften the nature of man, and melt his heart to 
mercy and love. For this he endured all the con- 
tradictions of sinners. For this he was scorned 



LOVE TO OUR NEIGHBOUR. 



81 



and hated on the earth. For this he toiled, and 
wept, and suffered, and died on the cross. The 
object of all his sufferings, the end of all his 
commandments, is that virtue of which we speak. 
It is love ; love out of a pure heart, a good con- 
science, and faith unfeigned. If then you vene- 
rate his holy name, if you claim the title, and 
aspire after the hopes of christians, you must walk 
in that temper in which he walked on the earth. 
You must learn to bear the fruits of the spirit, 
peace, long suffering, gentleness and goodness. You 
must learn to be kindly affectioned towards your 
fellow men, to be sincerely interested in their hap- 
piness, to forbear with them, to forgive their foi- 
bles, to forget their injuries, to bear their burdens 
of sorrow and infirmity, and so to fulfil the law of 
Christ. 

There is another motive to benevolence, of un- 
utterable moment, drawn from the representation 
which is given to us of the last great scene of re- 
tribution. We are told that the inquiry will then 
be, not how we have reasoned, nor how we have 
taught ; not how many sacrifices we have offered, 
how many wonderful works we have done, nor how 
many times we have called our master Lord, Lord ; 
but whether we have ever fed the hungry, and given 
drink to the thirsty ; whether we have sheltered 
the stranger, and clothed the naked ; whether we 
have ministered to the sick, and visited the impri- 
soned; whether, in short, Ave have ever sincerelv 
11 



82 



LOVE TO OUR NEIGHBOUR. 



interested ourselves in the happiness of our fellow 
men. He who has done this towards the meanest 
of the human race, has done it to his Saviour and 
Lord ; and he shall receive abundant recompence. 
But against him Avhose life has been absorbed in 
exclusive selfishness, whose heart has felt no emo- 
tions of benevolence, no visitings of mercy, the 
gates of heavenly blessedness must be shut ; for 
to such a spirit the happiness of heaven will be 
wholly uncongenial. 

My brethren, language can add nothing to this 
representation ; imagination can image to itself no- 
thing more awful. On him, who can bring home 
this consideration to his mind, and still resist its in- 
fluence, all other motives must be lost. From the 
sleep of such insensibility the voice of God alone 
can awake him. 



SERMON VIII 



LAW OF RETALIATION. 
ROMANS, XII. 17. 

Recompense to no man evil for evil. 

This passage is one of many that occur in the 
New Testament, in which, for the sake of greater 
brevity and impression, a general maxim of con- 
duct is laid down, without being accompanied with 
an enumeration of the limitations and distinctions, 
which are to be observed in its practical applica- 
tion. The precept is, I conceive, intended rather 
to be descriptive of the character and disposition, 
which a christian should possess under the recep- 
tion of injuries, than to regulate his actions in eve- 
ry specific instance. For it is evident that there 
are occasions when it is not only lawful, but lauda- 
ble, to return evil on him, by whom evil is inflicted. 
Such for example, are the cases of punishment 
in the regular administration of justice ; and such 
also is every instance of justifiable self-defence. 
If then the precept of the Apostle were under- 



84 



LAW OF RETALIATION, 



stood as a universal prohibition of retaliation in 
every case, it is clear that the foundations of civil 
society would be broken up, cruelty and injustice 
could never be punished, and our religion would 
abandon its followers an unresisting prey to the 
most vicious and profligate of mankind. 

That the Apostle did not intend that this pre- 
cept should be understood in such a sense, is evi- 
dent from a clause in the next verse; "If it be 
possible, as much as in you lieth, live peaceably 
with all men." It is here clearly implied, that af- 
ter a man has done all that is possible, as much as 
lies in him, it may sometimes be impossible to live 
at peace with all his fellow men. 

But although the precept, when taken as a 
maxim of conduct, is to be received with some 
exceptions, when understood as descriptive of the 
character and disposition of a christian under the 
reception of injuries, it is universally and absolute- 
ly true. Such, we admit, is the condition of hu- 
man life, that cases must occur, when even the 
laws of benevolence will require us to make the 
injurious man suffer for his injustice. But there is 
no case conceivable, even in imagination, in which 
we may be allowed to retaliate evil for the sake 
of evil ; to inflict pain, with the simple intention 
of giving pain ; in one word, with a spirit of re- 
venge. 

As it is impossible to deny that there are cases, 
in which retaliation is necessary for the mainte- 



LAW OF RETALIATION. 



85 



nance of our just rights, and therefore justifiable, 
it will be the object of the present discourse to 
state some principles, which may assist us in deter- 
mining when those cases exist ; and to say some- 
thing of the kind of retaliation which we may use, 
and the temper in which it should be exercised. 

I. With regard to those cases of injury in which 
retaliation is justifiable, we remark first, that the 
injury must appear to be intentional ; secondly, 
that it must be of some real magnitude ; and third- 
ly, that it must be of a kind which retaliation can 
remedy, either by causing reparation to be made, 
or by preventing a repetition of the offence to our- 
selves or others. All the conditions of this rule 
must, I conceive, be satisfied, in order to make any 
case of retaliation justifiable. I shall endeavour 
to illustrate each in its order. 

1. We may say that an injury, which justifies 
retaliation, must be proved to be intentional — to 
have been done with an injurious design. This is 
a limitation of great importance, and if it were ob- 
served, would extinguish at once more than half 
the animosities of mankind. "Without knowing 
particulars, I take upon me," says Butler, " to as- 
sure all persons, who think they have received in- 
dignities or injurious treatment, that they may 
depend upon it as in a manner certain, that the 
offence is not so great as they themselves imagine." 
We must remember our great liability to error, 
Avhen we are judges in our own cause. It is diffi- 



86 



LAW OF RETALIATION. 



cult for a man of the strictest justice not to favour 
himself too much, in the calmest moments of soli- 
tary meditation ; how much more then, when his 
passions are agitated by a sense of wrong, and his 
attention is engrossed by pain, interest, or danger. 
It is not enough that we know that we suffer by 
the conduct of another ; it must be clear that he 
designedly or willingly makes us suffer. We are 
bound to inquire too, how much his fault is exte- 
nuated by mistake, inadvertence or pardonable 
negligence. We must take care not to charge to 
design, ivhat was the effect of accident. In the 
case of injuries done to ourselves we are in so pe- 
culiar a situation, that it is almost as difficult to see 
them as they really are, as for the eye to see it- 
self. Self-love is in these cases a medium of a 
very singular kind. It magnifies every thing which 
is amiss in others, while at the same time it lessens 
every thing amiss in ourselves. This seems to point 
us to the propriety of submitting our cause to the 
judgment of others, whose passions are cool, whose 
reason is unprejudiced, and above all, who are not 
interested to flatter us. 

When we have done all this ; when we have 
made every allowance for inadvertence and mis- 
understanding, for the partialities of self-love, and 
the false lights in which every thing is placed by 
anger ; when we have collected the most ample 
evidence, and subjected our cause to unprejudiced 
revision ; then, perhaps some of you will say, may 



LAW OF RETALIATION. 



87 



we not have full liberty to return pain upon the 
head of him who inflicts it ? No indeed, my friends ; 
we have then only advanced a single step; we 
have only made ourselves ready for another and 
equally important inquiry — whether the injury 
which we have received, whatever malignity may 
have prompted it, is after all of any such serious 
magnitude as to call upon us for retaliation. 

2. It is not enough then, we remark in the se- 
cond place, that a man has intended to injure us, 
that he possesses a hostile temper towards us,or that 
he has wounded our pride, and triumphs in his 
success. If he have only the desire without the 
power to injure us, he is no proper object of re- 
taliation. A wise man will only despise, and a 
good man only pity him, as the miserable prey of 
malignant and self-tormenting passions. It is only 
when we suffer by an essential injury, that we are 
justified in making any active exertions to cause 
the injustice of him who assails us to recoil on him- 
self. 

A real injury I take to be an aggression which 
lessens or destroys our means of usefulness in life ; 
which impairs our ability to discharge some duty 
to our fellow men, to ourselves, or to our Creator. 
Any attack, which leaves our means and powers of 
action essentially entire and unimpaired, cannot 
surely be said to have done us any real injury; 
and as the principles on which we proceed reduce 
all retaliation to the case of necessary self-defence. 



88 



LAW OF RETALIATION. 



we may safely pass by an impotent attempt to in- 
jure us, without feeling ourselves obliged to resent 
it. If mankind would wait till this condition were 
satisfied, before they proceeded to retaliation, the 
grounds of animosity would be narrowed almost 
beyond belief. By far the greater part of our 
contests relate merely to trifles swelled into impor- 
tance by voluntary aggravation. The deadliest 
feuds which exist among mankind often originate 
in some inconsiderable aggression, resented at first 
by petulance and passion, then persisted in by false 
pride, exasperated by mutual and incessant retalia- 
tion, till at length it ends in bitter and unextin- 
guishable hatred. 

3. But after having satisfied ourselves that the 
injury under which we suffer is intentional, and 
that it seriously affects our means of usefulness, 
another inquiry yet remains ; whether any retali- 
ation which we can make will remedy the evil ; 
whether it will procure reparation to ourselves, or 
is necessary to prevent a repetition of the offence ? 
As this inquiry involves the consideration of the 
legitimate means of retaliation, we may remark on 
both under the same head. 

According to the principles already laid down, 
as retaliation is never justifiable, except when ne- 
cessary to protect us in the exercise of some of 
our important rights and duties, we must on the 
same principles conclude, that it is never to be re- 
sorted to, unless it will probably be effectual to this 



LAW OF RETALIATION. 



end. I mean by this to say, that retaliation is ne- 
ver to be resorted to as a punishment of a person 
injuring us, but simply, as was before stated, as a 
means of self-defence. The chastisement of the 
hostile and malignant disposition of an enemy to- 
wards us, the retribution of so much pain for so 
much guilty intention, it is not for ignorant, erring 
and short sighted man to think of inflicting. " Ven- 
geance is mine ; I will repay, saith the Lord." 
Let us not presume to invade the prerogative of 
Omnipotence. When we have provided for our 
own security, it becomes us to leave the punish- 
ment of the guilty mind to that Being, whose 
knowledge penetrates every concealment, from the 
operation of whose will no art nor flight can es- 
cape, and who alone can weigh in the balance of 
omniscient justice the precise amount and aggrava- 
tion of every crime. Protection and reparation 
are the only ends which we are allowed to pursue ; 
and all means, which do not tend to these ends are 
therefore utterly wrong and indefensible. Now, 
in almost every case in which any of our important 
rights are openly invaded, we may find both pro- 
tection and reparation in the laws of our country. 
There are indeed some cases to which the law 
does not reach. But in most of these the reason 
why the law is inadequate is, that they are of such 
a. nature that the attempt to inflict punishment 
would create more evil than it would prevent ; 
and it is for the general good that such injuries 
12 



LAW OF RETALIATION. 



should be left to the righteous retribution of hea- 
ven, which will at length assuredly overtake them. 
The wisdom which in these cases restrains the arm 
of the law ought likewise to operate on us. There 
may still, however, remain some instances to which 
the law does not reach, where the duty of retalia- 
tion may devolve on the individual. We may pu- 
nish a man who has overreached us, for example, 
by not trusting him again, and by proclaiming his 
dishonesty to the world. We may lawfully use all 
honest means to reduce the unmerited influence of 
a man who is exerting that influence wrongfully to 
lessen our reputation. And in general, we may 
remark, that in those cases in which the laws are 
silent, we are allowed to employ all the fair instru- 
ments which we may possess, to repel injustice ; 
provided always that we are careful to make self- 
protection the only object of our efforts, and ade- 
quate reparation the measure of their exertion. 

But it may be said, that as a man's respectability 
clearly constitutes a part of his means of useful- 
ness, what is to be done, when from the state of 
manners and opinions in the community, he will be 
degraded from his respectability, if under certain 
circumstances he suffers an insult to pass unnoticed ? 
Is not the practice of duelling placed, in this way, 
on the ground of self-defence ? This, I think, is 
the only ground on which any rational man will now 
vindicate this custom. The barbarity of its origin : 
its intrinsic absurdity as a means of punishment : 



LAW OF RETALIATION. 



91 



the inequality of its operation, in putting the good 
and the bad exactly on a level ; all these things 
are now, I believe, very generally conceded. It is 
only said, that absurd as it is, such is the state of 
things that a man may sometimes, however unwil- 
lingly, be compelled to resort to it as the only 
means left him, of vindicating his standing, and 
consequently his usefulness in society. It will not 
be necessary at the present time to enter largely 
into the consideration of this subject ; it will be 
quite safe to place the question on the ground which 
is thus chosen. We may assert then that the jus- 
tifying reason alleged does not exist any where, I 
believe, but certainly not among us. A man who 
possesses any real respectability does not forfeit it 
by disregarding an insult, which nothing in his own 
conduct has justly provoked. And if he should have 
been betrayed into any conduct, which reason and 
conscience do not approve, still I am confident that 
he will rise, rather than fall, in the esteem of every 
man whose regard is worth the having, by making 
such concessions as reason and true honour will 
warrant. I do not think so meanly of the state of 
society in which we live, I do not rate so low the 
influence of high morals and pure Christianity, as 
to think that a man, who has nothing with which 
to reproach himself, can be thrust from his place 
in society by disregarding the menaces of a ruffian. 

But even if this should be thought too favora- 
ble a view of the state of opinion among us, or if 



92 



LAW OF RETALIATION. 



the question should be asked as to the conduct of 
a man in a state of society different from our own, 
still I should have no question of what would be 
demanded of a man of religion and morals. I 
speak, you observe, of a man of religion and mo- 
rals ; for they who on every other subject noto- 
riously have neither, will of course make rules for 
themselves. It is one of the dreadful consequences 
of a life of habitual libertinism and irreligion, that a 
man will not be believed when he pleads scruples of 
conscience on this subject, who has gloried in hav- 
ing none on any other. But with regard to a man 
of religion, or even of high morals, his course ap- 
pears to me to be as clear as the path of the sun 
in a cloudless sky. The regard of the world, con- 
sidered as a means of usefulness, is, I admit, an un- 
questionable good. But it is not so great a good 
that it may not be purchased at too high a price ; 
and it is assuredly bought too dear, when it costs 
us the violation of the laws of God, of reason, and 
humanity. No man can have the right to take 
away the life of his antagonist, or to expose his 
own, merely to gain the suffrages of the world. 
It will not do to admit, that the eternal principles 
of right may be superseded at the command of 
fashion and prejudice. It is better for us, at any 
hazard, to obey the voice of God rather than of 
man ; and if necessary, to give up the regard of 
the world, rather than resign the consolations of 
innocence. 

II. Having considered the occasions and the 



LAW OF RETALIATION. 



93 



means of justifiable retaliation, it remains only to 
say a few words on the temper* with which it should 
be exercised. After all the conditions which make 
retaliation justifiable are complied with ; after we 
are satisfied that the injury of which we complain 
is intentional ; that it is of a magnitude seriously to 
affect our powers of usefulness; that there is no oth- 
er way of maintaining our rights, and that we have 
such lawful means of retaliation as will ensure to 
us redress and security ; still, before they are used, 
the christian is called on once more to pause and 
to examine himself. He must first empty his heart 
of all malice ; of every particle of that unholy, 
that accursed spirit, which unlike every other prin- 
ciple or passion of our nature, has for its very end 
and object the misery of our fellow creatures ; 
which broods over the memory of its wrongs ; 
which delights in the anticipation of the pain it is 
about to inflict ; which gluts its pride, and inflames 
its animosity, with the fancied supplications of 
humbled enmity. The pure genius of Christianity 
forbids this unhallowed spirit of revenge in every 
degree, under all its forms, upon every occasion. 
The gospel allows no retaliation, Avhich is not con- 
sistent with a forgiving spirit, with a feeling of 
sorrow and regret that we are compelled to re- 
sort to it. Even when retaliation is in itself justifi- 
able, it ceases to be so, and becomes deeply crimi- 
nal, if it be exercised with a revengeful temper. 

This is the sense in which the Apostle intend- 
ed his direction in the text to be understood, and 



94 



LAW OF RETALIATION. 



in this he imitated the preaching and example of 
his Master. Our Saviour, as has been well re- 
marked, who estimated virtues by their solid uti- 
lity, and not by their fashion or popularity, pre- 
fers the forgiveness of injury to every other. He 
enjoins it oftener ; with more earnestness ; under 
a greater variety of forms ; and with this weighty 
and peculiar circumstance, that the forgiveness of 
others is the condition on which we are to ask 
from God forgiveness for ourselves. Of him who 
hopes to be forgiven, it is indispensably required 
that he should forgive. Can it then be possible 
that any human being should be found, who re- 
members how much he has to be forgiven, and 
who yet has no charity, no pity, no forgiveness, for 
his offending fellow-sinner ! Can we remember 
how many offences God has endured from us with- 
out blotting us from the earth ; that He has en- 
dured our insensibility, our ingratitude, our num- 
berless sins ; and yet cannot we endure the slight- 
est injury from our neighbour, but we must burn 
with anger and revenge, and perhaps think it ne- 
cessary to wipe out the offence in his blood ! My 
friends, let us pray God to forgive us, if we have 
ever felt this spirit. Let us, as we value his favour, 
extinguish our unholy animosities, and learn chari- 
ty for each other's failings, Let us seek to love 
one another as Christ loved us; that we may not 
be wholly unworthy to be admitted at last to those 
blissful mansions, where peace and love abide 
e tenia! lv. 



SERMON IX. 



HUMILITY. 



PROVERBS, XV. 33. 

Before honour is humility. 

Although it has undoubtedly been the effect of 

the diffusion of Christianity, to refine and elevate 

j 7 

the standard of morals throughout the world, it is 
still not to be denied, that the christian estimates 
many characters and events very differently from 
the man of the world. Some of the virtues, which 
Christianity esteems of the highest value, and to 
which she promises her richest rewards, are un- 
honoured if not despised by the world ; and in re- 
turn, many of those qualities which the world con- 
siders of the highest dignity, Christianity pronounces 
to be among the most dangerous and detestable 
vices. The world, for example, binds its wreath of 
glory around the brow of the sanguinary conqueror 
of empires; but Christianity looks down on his tri- 
umphs with horror and disdain; and reserves her 
brightest laurel for the lowly, unassuming conquer- 



96 



HUJVIILITV. 



or of himself. The world gives its admiration to 
the successful cultivator of science, even though he 
may be destitute of some of the fairest of the vir- 
tues ; but Christianity gives him none of her respect, 
however rich may be his powers, and however illu- 
minated his understanding, if he have neglected to 
cultivate that knowledge which she values above 
all others, the knowledge of God and of his own 
heart. In the estimation of the world, wealth is 
allowed to compensate for the absence of almost 
every amiable quality ; but Christianity regards af- 
fluence, unsanctified by goodness, with abhorrence, 
and pronounces the poorest being that walks the 
earth, blessed and honourable, if his heart be rich 
in piety and virtue. The world praises him as a 
man of spirit and of honour, who bears no injury 
Avithout instant and ample revenge ; but Christiani- 
ty crowns him with her highest honours, who can 
pity and forgive, and do good to his most deadly 
foe. The world, in fine, gives its homage to the 
splendid exterior of pride and vain-glory ; but 
Christianity approves and acknowledges the man of 
sincere humility alone. " Whosoever exalteth him- 
self," saith Jesus, " shall be abased ; and he that 
humbleth himself shall be exalted." 

There is no subject on which the christian, 
and the man of the world, are more complete- 
ly at issue than on this. Our Saviour, by all 
his words and actions, raises the virtue of humility 
to a rank which no teacher of morals ever before 



HUMILITY. 



97 



gave it. The man of the world esteems it a mean 
and poor-spirited quality ; at best, only the virtue 
of feeble minds. 

Let us consider, my brethren, the reasons why so 
much importance is given to humility in the chris- 
tian system, and see, whether instead of being, as 
the world regards it, unworthy of a noble and gene- 
rous mind, it may not be shown to be in its origin 
among the most exalted, and in its nature among 
the most indispensable of all the virtues. 

The reason why the true dignity of the christian 
grace of humility is not universally acknowledged, 
is, that men do not attend to its origin. Humility 
supposes an act of comparison, and does, I admit, 
imply a sense of inferiority and un worthiness. But 
how broad and evident is the distinction between 
this quality, and every thing like meanness and ab- 
jectness of mind. A man is not humble because he 
submits patiently to disgrace, which he has not 
dignity enough to avoid, nor spirit enough to resent. 
He is not humble because all his desires, when com- 
pared with those of his fellow-men, are grovelling 
and low, and all his powers narrow and debased. 
The very reverse of this is- true. A christian is 
made humble, not so much by comparing himself 
with others, as by comparing himself with his du- 
ty ; not by thinking of what he is, but of what he 
ought to be; not by considering whether he is lit- 
tle or great, when compared with others, but re- 
membering that he is nothing, when compared with 
13 



98 



HUMILITY. 



perfect excellence. A christian, then, is humbler 
than another man, not because his views are mean- 
spirited and low, but because he measures himself 
by a high standard ; because his ideas of excellence 
are lofty and distinct ; because his conceptions of 
duty are noble and exalted; because, in fine, he 
measures himself, not so much with the frail beings 
around him, as with that image of perfection, which 
his spotless Master has left for his imitation. 

True it is, that a man of genuine humility often 
makes a lowly contrast of himself with his fellow- 
men, and esteems others better than himself. But 
this is rather the effect of his humility, than the 
original cause, and arises also from the superiority 
of his views. It is because he knows himself bet- 
ter than he can know any other man ; because he 
is so deeply impressed with his own unworthiness ; 
because he values so little all that he has already at- 
tained, compared with that after which he aspires; 
because he is willing to believe the hearts of others 
purer, and their views of religion more sublime, 
than his own. His humility however does not blind 
him to his real character, and still less does it lead 
him to an affected ignorance of what every one 
else perceives. He is not insensible of the real el- 
evation which his talents or virtues may give him ; 
but this conviction of superiority is only the calm 
inference of his understanding, and not, like vani- 
ty or pride, a busy importunate passion of the 
heart. 



HUMILITV. 



99 



Compare then the proud man with the man of 
humility, and tell me, which is the more dignified 
being. Pride, like humility, supposes an act of 
comparison. But the comparison of the proud 
man is not between himself and the standard of his 
duty ; between what he is and what he ought to 
be; but between himself and his fellow-men. He 
looks around him, forgets his own defects and 
weakness, infirmities and sins, and because he finds, 
or imagines he finds, in some respects, a little superi- 
ority to his fellow men — at the greatest it can be 
but a little — because he, one worm of the dust, be- 
lieves himself to be somewhat more rich, more 
learned, more successful than another, he thinks 
this to be a sufficient ground for swelling with self- 
complacency, and regarding those around him with 
disdain and contempt. The humble man, on the 
contrary, is so full of the thought of the exceeding 
breadth of the commandments of God, and of that 
supreme excellence to which his religion teaches 
him to aspire ; and he so constantly recollects the 
imperfection of his approaches to it, that every 
idea of a vain-glorious comparison of himself with 
his neighbour dies away within him. He can only 
remember that God is every tiling, and that in his 
august presence, all distinctions are lost, and all hu- 
man beings reduced to the same level. Say then, 
my friends, is it not pride that is so mean, so poor- 
spirited and low; is it not pride that is a mark of a 
little and narrow and feeble mind ; and is not hu- 



100 



HUMILITY. 



mility alone the truly noble, the truly generous 

and sublime quality ? 

There is this farther proof of the superior ele- 
vation of the humble man. The man of pride, 
with all his affected contempt of the world, must 
evidently estimate it very highly ; else whence so 
much complacency at the idea of surpassing others? 
Whence that restless desire of distinction, that pas- 
sion for theatrical display, which inflames his heart 
and occupies his whole attention? Why is it that 
his strongest motive to good actions is their notorie- 
ty, and that he considers every worthy deed as 
lost, when it is not publickly displayed? It is only 
because the world, and the world's applause are 
every thing to him ; and that he cannot live but 
on the breath of popular favour. But the humble 
man, with all his real lowliness, has yet risen above 
the world. He looks for that honour, which cometh 
down from on high, and the whispers of worldly 
praise die away upon his ear. When his thoughts 
return from the contemplation of the infinite excel- 
lence of God and the future glories of virtue, the 
objects of this life appear reduced in their impor- 
tance ; in the same way, as the landscape around 
appears little and low to him, whose eye has been 
long directed to the solemn grandeur and wide 
magnificence of the starry heavens. I appeal to 
you, my friends, to decide on the comparative digni- 
ty of the characters of the proud and the humble 
man I call on you to say, whether our blessed 



HUMILITY. 



101 



Master has given to humility too high a rank in the 
scale of excellence. 

But this quality, despised by the world, and so 
little regarded by the moralists of antiquity as that 
it is doubtful whether the Romans had a word to 
express it, is yet as indispensable as it is dignified. 
It must be at the basis of all goodness. Piety and 
benevolence can exist in their purity only in the 
breast of a humble man. Among the essential 
constituents of piety are reverence and gratitude. 
But if you consider what it is to revere and be 
grateful to God, you will see that no one but a 
humble man can do either. Reverence in its na- 
ture implies an acknowledgment of superiority in 
any being to whom we give it ; and when it is giv- 
en to God in its purity, this superiority is perceiv- 
ed to be so infinite, that all comparison ceases, and 
all human claims fade and disappear. We feel 
that in comparison with God, the noblest being to 
whom he has given existence, yea, all that the uni- 
verse embraces, all that we can conceive of great 
and good, all, when compared with Him, sink into 
unimportance. How much more insignificant, then, 
is man, at his fairest estate ; man, the child of frail- 
ty, error and sin ; man, that fades before the 
moth, that drinketh iniquity like water; that is 
born of dust and kindred to the grave ! Now is it 
conceivable, that a man should habitually cherish 
these thoughts of the grandeur of God and his own 
feebleness, without having every emotion of arro- 



102 



HUMILITY. 



gance and pride extinguished in his breast ? Will 
the man who habitually humbles himself in the 
presence of his God, be likely to bear himself 
proudly in the presence of his fellow men ? Will 
he, who from a sense of unworthiness, shrinks into 
nothing before the throne of his Maker, be apt to 
swell into imaginary importance as soon as he finds 
himself among the dependent offspring of the same 
Parent ? Can we conceive of two ideas more evi- 
dently and entirely separated than that of reverence 
prostrating itself in adoration before God, lost in 
wonder at the contemplation of his perfections, 
overwhelmed by a sense of its own imperfection, 
frailty and sin ; — -and that of pride, erecting itself 
with fancied elevation, full of haughty disdain of 
all around, and exclusively engrossed by conscious 
self-complacency ? Is it too much, then, to say that 
no other than a humble man can sincerely reve- 
rence God ? 

It is equally impossible that any other than a 
humble man should be deeply and sincerely grate- 
Jul to God. Gratitude is in its nature at war with 
the principle of self-sufficiency, because it implies 
that we have received favours from another. It 
wounds that secret and unavowed, but real belief, 
that always accompanies pride, that we are the au- 
thors of our own good qualities, and that our en- 
joyments are independent and unborrowed. There 
is a peculiar opposition between pride and that 
gratitude, which we exercise towards the Deity. 



HUMILITY. 



103 



How is it possible, that any man should recollect 
thai ail ihe talents and good affections which he 
possesses are the unmerited gift of God ; that he 
owes all which exalts him in the esteem of others, 
all that constitutes his happiness here and his 
hopes of felicity hereafter, to God's mercy alone ; 
how can he recollect this, without perceiving, that 
however strong may be his obligation to gratitude, 
he has not the smallest foundation for pride ? He 
who habitually refers all that he enjoys to the 
bounty of heaven, cannot surely be vain of the lit- 
tle distinctions which elevate him above his fellow 
men. If he differs from another, it is God who 
makes him to differ, and of what can he be proud? 
When too he recollects — and the pious man never 
forgets it — that all this goodness has been shower- 
ed on one not only without claim to it, but on one 
sinful, insensible, and unworthy, must not every 
emotion of self-complacency melt within his breast? 
We may surety venture to repeat the assertion that 
no man can be sincerely grateful to God, who has 
not learned humility in the school of Christ. 

Since then it appears, that humility is necessary 
for all just reverence and all genuine gratitude to 
God, the assertion was not too strong, that he can- 
not be a pious man who is not at the same time a 
humble man. But I believe that more than this 
is true. No one will be really and uniformly be- 
nevolent to his fellow men, who does not possess 
humility. Vanity is a most unsocial passion. The 



104 



HUMILITY. 



portion of time and attention, which mankind are 
willing to spare from their avocations and pleasures 
to devote to the admiration of each other, is so 
small, that every successful adventurer is felt to 
have impaired the common stock. The success of 
one is the disappointment of multitudes. Hence a 
man, in whom vanity is a strong passion, is necessa- 
rily led to regard his rival as his enemy, and tempt- 
ed to rejoice in his miscarriage, and repine at his 
success. At least, his heart will be gradually form- 
ed to a profound indifference to the welfare of 
others. Attentive only to himself, instead of feel- 
ing tenderness for his fellow creatures, as members 
of the same family, beings with whom he is ap- 
pointed to act, to suffer, and to sympathize, he con- 
siders life as a stage, on which he is performing a 
part, and mankind only as spectators, who stand by 
to admire and applaud. 

But if you still doubt the incompatibility of 
pride with real christian benevolence, consider but 
for a moment, the general condition of human ex- 
istence. Recollect how much we are compelled 
to endure in the common intercourse of life, from 
the opposing claims of our neighbours ; how often 
our plans cross each other, our designs interfere, 
and our interests are unavoidably at variance. 
Here then, the field opens for the exertion of be- 
nevolence. And do you expect that he who is 
constantly fostering an idea of his superiority to 
others, will be ready to yield, or accommodate his 



HUMILITY. 



105 



claims to theirs ? When his plans are opposed, his 
superiority denied, and his claims slighted, is this 
the man from whom you are to expect moderation 
and benevolence ? What are you to hope from a 
man, whose thoughts are continually occupied with 
his own perfections, who never stirs from the narrow 
circle which pride and the selfishness of pride have 
drawn around him ? No ; the sentiment of a uni- 
form and general benevolence is too exalted to be 
felt by any other than the man of lowliness. He 
only, who thinks himself sent into the world, not 
for himself alone, but to fulfil the purposes of God; 
who feels that he is only a humble instrument in 
His hand, and that he is honoured by the privi- 
lege of serving Him, and his fellow men; he alone 
it is, whose feelings are sublime enough, whose 
heart is wide enough, to take to its embrace the 
whole family of mankind. 

I have thus offered some reasons in vindication 
of the rank which is given to the virtue of humili- 
ty in the christian system. I have endeavoured to 
show that it arises from the most exalted of all 
principles, and that it is essential to the existence of 
all genuine piety to God, and benevolence to man. 
If this be so, a reply is given to an objection which 
has been made to the gospel, for the preference 
which it bestows on this and other passive virtues, 
over those of a more active and imposing character. 
It is true, that, in the precepts of our Lord, the 
first place is always given to the meek, retiring and 
14 



106 



HUMILITY. 



unobtrusive graces. The man, who suffers patient- 
ly, is there ranked above him, who contrives wise- 
ly or executes boldly ; he who forgives, above him 
who revenges an injury ; he, who abases, above 
him who exalts himself. If then, as I hope, this 
preference has been vindicated in the case of hu- 
mility, you will feel that Christianity is not only re- 
lieved from a cavil, but supplied with a proof. Hu- 
mility can never be a popular quality ; and how 
can we suppose that a system which lays so much 
stress upon it, is the contrivance of human ingenui- 
ty? Would a human lawgiver, ambitious that his 
system should descend to posterity, ambitious, of its 
universal reception even in his own age, have 
counteracted his project by attempting to extin- 
guish in the breast of others the feelings which 
acted so powerfully in his own? Would a manlike 
ourselves, eager to become the founder of a popu- 
lar religion, have opposed those very passions of 
the human heart, which, as they are esteemed 
honourable among men, are ever most uncontrolled 
in their influence, and most easily pardoned in their 
excess? What then is the inference from these 
facts? Is it not, that he, who spake as never man 
spake, has left in the very humility of his precepts, 
the stamp of divine authority? Does not the de- 
rision of his adversaries plainly enough show that 
if they had been the framers of the christian sys- 
tem, they would have decked it in a thousand or- 
naments to captivate the false taste of mankind ? 



HUMILITY. 



107 



And is not the fact, that our Saviour did not do 
this, but rather directed all his preaching to the 
inculcation of virtues the most opposed to the pre- 
vailing prejudices and wishes of his hearers, a solid 
proof that he courted not the applause of men; 
that he felt he was the messenger of the most 
High ; and that he relied for the success of his 
ministry on more than human aid? If it be allow- 
ed that the virtue of humility really possesses the 
dignity and importance which our Saviour gives to 
it; and if it be remembered how slightly and im- 
perfectly it was taught by the philosophers of an 
cient days, we shall scarcely be able to avoid the 
inference, that he who first gave to this virtue its 
proper rank, must have had wisdom that was from 
above, and authority that was divine. 

My friends, I must leave it to yourselves to 
make the proper improvement of this interesting 
subject. It is the tendency and design of this view 
of the dignity and importance of humility, to per- 
suade you to cultivate and practise it. It is not an 
easy duty. It is not only opposed to many of the 
favorite maxims of the world, but to many of the 
most powerful propensities of our own hearts. Let 
us remember that it is the virtue which was ever 
heard from the lips, and seen in the life, of our 
blessed Master. Meditate then often on the per- 
fection of his character. Cease to make vain-glo- 
rious comparisons between yourselves and others. 
Think more of your faults, and less of your virtues- 



108 



HUMILITY. 



Let your sins be ever before you. Approach often 
the throne of divine mercy. Remember there 
your unworthiness in the sight of God. Implore 
him to extinguish every emotion of pride within 
your breasts. He has promised by his Son, that if 
you ask, you shall receive ; if you seek^ you shall 
find ; if you knock at the gate of mercy, it shall be 
opened unto you* 



» 



SERMON X. 



HONESTY. 

JOB, XXVII. 5. 

Till 1 die, I will not remove mine integrity from me, 

The word integrity seems to be used by this pa- 
tient and magnanimous sufferer in a somewhat 
wider sense than that in which it is commonly re- 
ceived at the present day. With us it is usually 
taken to mean the same thing with honesty or up- 
rightness ; and seems to imply merely the perfect 
discharge of the social duties. But as it is used in 
different passages of the book of Job, it seems to 
regard the whole circle of the virtues, personal, 
social, and devotional. When the infatuated wife 
of this pious man exhorts him to resort to suicide 
as the only relief from the accumulated evils 
which oppressed him, she impatiently asks, " Dost 
thou still retain thine integrity V The word must 
here mean his fear of offending God in any parti- 
cular ; his respect for all his commandments. A 
man of integrity, in this sense, means a man of uni- 



110 



HONESTY. 



versal goodness, of ripened virtue. It does not 
indeed imply that he never yields to any tempta- 
tion, for of what mortal can this be said ! but it 
supposes that he respects the authority on which 
all the laws of God are founded, and does not there- 
fore habitually tolerate in himself any one vice ; 
does not deliberately permit himself to offend in any 
single point. There are no breaks in the links of 
that golden chain by which all his virtues are bound 
together. There is no secret and unseen disease 
preying on the soundness and healthiness of his 
moral constitution. In the goodly superstructure 
of his character, there can be found no unnoticed 
seam, through which even the penetrating light 
of conscience can enter, betraying that its founda- 
tion is unsolid and insecure. 

In this sense of the word, we shall all agree, 
that to pronounce any one to be a man of integri- 
ty, is to give him most exalted praise. But when 
it is used in the more restricted sense in which it 
is received among us, it is supposed to imply the 
possession of a very necessary and very valuable, 
certainly, but not a very high and dignified virtue. 
I however think otherwise. I believe that what 
is sometimes called " common honesty," when it is 
taken to imply all that it fairly and properly means, 
is a very exalted quality, and is, I am afraid, not so 
common as is sometimes believed. I propose in 
this discourse to consider some of the modes in 
which the laws of honesty are most usually violat- 



HONESTY. 



Ill 



ed in our dealings with one another, and examine 
some of those elements, or features of moral cha- 
racter, which mark, and are necessary to consti- 
tute, a man of integrity — a truly honest man. 

I. There are certain violations of honesty, which 
the laws define and punish as open frauds, of the 
nature of which no one can be ignorant, the turpi- 
tude of which no one denies, and which therefore 
do not require even to be named to those who ha- 
bitually meet in our religious assemblies. 

There are other departures from the strict rule 
of right, from their nature not cognizable by the 
laws, which really amount to the same thing as 
dishonesty, though they sometimes receive gentler 
names. Of this nature is every species of deceit, 
dissimulation, or evasion, in our dealings with one 
another. For not only is it dishonest, expressly or 
by implication, to ascribe to our goods any quality 
which we know they have not ; but also designedly 
to conceal any fault which we know they have, 
and with which the buyer cannot in fairness be 
supposed to be acquainted. It is dishonesty to re- 
present our wares to be, in any respect, what they 
are not, or not to be what they are. It is disho- 
nesty also, of a very aggravated kind, to take ad- 
vantage of another's confidence in our integrity ; — 
to borrow, for example, on false securities or false 
representations of our circumstances, without any 
intention or reasonable expectation of repaying ; 
and it is dishonesty to raise by design any expecta- 
tions which we do not intend or desire to fulfil. 



112 



HONESTY. 



Dishonesty is implied in all cases, where the 
forms of law are used to shelter us in any viola- 
lations of equity. The laws of civil society are 
instituted mainly to guard its peace and general 
security ; not to watch over the virtue of the in- 
dividual. This last is the province of religion and 
morality. They must proceed on hxed and known 
rules, which in general will operate equitably, but 
which in some particular cases will not. Here, 
then, a thoroughly honest man will follow, not 
what the law may permit, but what equity de- 
mands. He must not, for example, keep his neigh- 
bour to the very words and letter of his agreement, 
when they clearly violate the original spirit and 
equitable intention of it. Nor, on the other hand, 
is he allowed to allege any flaw or defect in form, 
to get loose from a contract which in good faith 
and conscience he ought to perform. He is not 
allowed to put another to the charge and hazard 
of the law unjustly or needlessly ; or, in ever so 
necessary a law-suit, to occasion unnecessary ex- 
penses, or contrive unfair delays. 

We must place excessive rigour and hardness in 
our dealings, among the violations of strict integri- 
ty. He who takes advantage of a buyer's igno- 
rance or particular necessities, to insist on a higher 
price than the current value or fair 44 market price" 
for his commodity ; or on the other hand, who 
uses the same advantages to beat down his mer- 
chandize greatly below this standard, violates the 



HONESTY. 



113 



laws of honesty. Under this head also must be 
placed the exaction of usury — not because it is not 
right that a man should receive compensation for 
lending his money, as well as any other property into 
which that money may be converted — but in some 
degree, because the rapid accumulation of wealth 
without industry is bad for the state and for the 
individual, and chiefly, because we must know that 
in most instances he who is willing to borrow at 
exorbitant interest must be on the brink of insol- 
vency, and that by lending to him, we only preci- 
pitate his downfall, and increase his inability to 
discharge the just demands of those creditors, who 
have entrusted him with the hard earnings of their 
own exertion. In this way we make ourselves par- 
takers of another man's sins. 

In the fourth place, we must number extrava- 
gance among the cases of dishonesty. Whoever 
spends upon himself, or throws away upon any 
other person, more than he can prudently afford, 
whatever fine names of elegance, good nature or 
generosity his conduct may receive, in reality dis- 
poses of what cannot fairly be called his own ; he 
does in effect defraud his family, and will be in 
great danger of being driven at last to endeavour 
to repair by unlawful means what he has lost by 
folly. 

Finally, we must give the epithet of dishonesty 
to every act whereby we withhold or take from a 
neighbour, from any society or body of men, from 
15 



114 



HONESTY. 



the government, from the public, any thing which 
they can justly call their right. Whether the 
amount be little or much ; whether the guilt be 
divided among ever so great a number; whether 
the practice be ever so common; it is the same 
crime, however it may vary in degree. The pos- 
sible cases of this description are innumerable ; but 
no one can be at a loss to determine when they 
occur, who faithfully applies the same maxims of 
conduct in his dealings with others, which he 
would think it equitable to have in return applied 
to himself. This rule is so plain and so universal, 
that he who errs in its application must do so by 
a voluntary self-deception. 

II. These statements of some of the modes in 
which the laws of honesty may be violated, have 
been made with a view to explain the nature of 
this virtue. They will receive some farther illus- 
tration, when we proceed to the second general ob- 
ject of the discourse, and consider some of the ele- 
ments or features of moral character, which mark 
and are necessary to constitute a man of integrity. 

In the first place we remark, that a man of in- 
tegrity must be a man of principle. The distinc- 
tions between right and wrong in his mind must 
not be loose and floating, but clearly ascertained 
and settled. His opinions on the proper rule of 
life must be made up definitively, and not left to 
be varied and modified by circumstances. They 
must be clear, universal, absolute. He must have 



HONESTY. 



115 



weighed well the nature and obligations of virtue. 
He must be convinced that virtue is the supreme 
good. There must be no hesitation or parley in 
his mind, between the claims of God and Mam- 
mon. He must cultivate a ready perception of 
guilt ; a moral sense awake and active to detect 
the first approaches of temptation ; and a prompt 
and decisive resolution to resist it under whatever 
form it may be disguised. 

Therefore we remark, in the second place, that 
a man of integrity must be a man of consistency, 
or in other words, a man true to his principles. In 
order to this, his principles must be something 
more than opinions. They must be the universal 
law of his actions ; the settled purpose of his soul. 
They must have so powerful a consent of the 
will to their propriety and obligations, as to chain 
down every discordant, every counteracting pro- 
pensity of his nature, as with links of iron. He 
must feel that the motives to virtue are infinite ; 
that nothing can be thrown into the opposite scale, 
no amount of earthly good, which can poize them 
even for an instant. 

This leads me to say, in the third place, that a 
man of integrity must be a man of religious prin- 
ciple. I acknowledge that a regard for the opi- 
nion of mankind, a view of immediate self-interest, 
a dread of the laws of our country, and the dic- 
tates of the early implanted moral sentiments of 
our nature, will furnish a reflecting and calculating 
man, in a vast majority of cases, with a tolerably 



1 113 



HONEST i. 



steady and certain rule of life, and give him suf- 
ficient motives to observe it. But we are not 
speaking of one who is generally an honest man, but 
of one who is always so ; not of one who is in most 
particulars just, but of one who is thoroughly so; 
who is sound to the very core. We are speaking of 
a man who retains his integrity at home and abroad, 
in secret and in public, by night and by day; who 
would be as faithful to his principles in the soli- 
tude of a desert, as before the eyes of the assem- 
bled world. And you must not expect to find a 
man of this description, who is not governed by 
religious principles ; who is not influenced by a 
steady regard to the will of God, and the retribu- 
tions of eternity. There are instances — and though 
they are not frequent, they are not imaginary 
ones — when the opinion of the multitude will be 
on the side of a departure from strict right ; 
when worldly interest will appear to be in opposi- 
tion to the laws of integrity ; and when he who 
has no fear of God may think that he has nothing 
else to fear. Therefore it is apparent that the 
interests of virtue will not be securely and steadily 
maintained in any man's mind, who does not re- 
gard the approbation of God as the supreme law 
of action ; who does not feel that when he does 
his duty, he may always safely leave the event to 
the care of Him, who will not permit his faithful 
servant finally to suffer for his obedience. 

When we have said that a man of integrity 
must be a man of religious principle, we have sak* 



HONESTY. 117 

what implies every thing else. It may be useful 
however, to go on to remark, fourthly, that a man of 
integrity will be a man of frankness and of truth. 
As he intends always to walk forward in the path of 
rectitude, he of course has nothing to conceal. 
He who in all his actions remembers that he is un- 
der the eye of Omniscience, cannot fear the keen- 
est inquisition of his fellow men. He has there- 
fore no artifices, no subterfuges, no double dealing 
in any of its forms. He knows but one avenue to 
the objects of his desire and pursuit; and that 
lies straight before him. His soul shrinks from 
every thing like deception. He never " palters to 
you in a double sense." His yea means yea. His 
nay means nay. His oath would add nothing to 
the sacredness of his word; for he remembers 
that God hears him always, and that his word, not 
less than his oath, is registered in heaven. 

Lastly, a man of integrity is a man of courage 
and fortitude. By courage I do not mean that 
mere steadiness of nerves, which is often wholly 
mechanical ; but a far less vulgar quality, the cou- 
rage of sentiment. A man of integrity must pos- 
sess a principle of moral action, strong enough to 
carry him through all the difficulties and obstacles, 
which sometimes lie in the path of recfitude, and 
of influence enough to authorize him in saying 
"Till I die I will not remove mine integrity from 
me." The course which honesty marks out is 
usually, if we merely consider this world, the 



118 



HONESTY. 



course of security and interest. But there are cas- 
es, though they may not occur in every one's life, in 
which it will cost a man dear to maintain his inte- 
grity. He may be called to encounter the opposi- 
tion of his friends, and perhaps the opinion of the 
greater part of the society in which he lives. 
His singularity in virtue may sometimes expose 
him to derision, calumny, and scorn. He may even 
be threatened by evils of a darker aspect than 
disapprobation and contempt. He may be called 
to serious sufferings. To dare all that conscience 
and a good cause require, must sometimes be to 
dare even to die. At such a conjuncture a man 
must not only have very high principles on which 
he can fall back for support, but he must have 
some strength of character, some fortitude of pur- 
pose, to keep him true to those principles. No- 
thing short of that solemn and supreme energy, 
which an habitual confidence in the approbation 
and aid of the Almighty can inspire, will be 
sufficient to sustain him. And this, my friends, is 
sufficient. It has been found sufficient to sustain a 
man "faithful among the faithless, unshaken, un- 
seduced, unterrified." The fight of faith is indeed 
sometimes a hard one. Pleasure may seduce us 
with a Syren's voice; honour may lift up to our 
view its glittering crown; wealth may pour at our 
feet its golden tides ; and the world may arm all 
these allurements with the terror of its frown and 
its laugh, if we resist them. But amid these trials, 



HONEST V. 



119 



the man of integrity will still sustain himself by 
thinking of God, and of his duty ; by remember- 
ing that when his warfare is accomplished, he will 
hear from his conscience the sweet whisper of 
peace. 

Servant of God, well done ! well hast thou fought 
The better fight— 

— for this was all thy care, 
To stand approved in sight of God, though worlds 
Judged thee perverse. 

What shall we compare to the value of such a 
testimony as this ! Who would not rather have 
such praise as this from the voice of God within 
him, than possess all the power which fires the 
dreams of ambition ; all the pleasure in which the 
imagination of sensuality revels ; all the wealth 
which swells the hopes of avarice. Let us re- 
member, too, that the joy of an approving con- 
science is but a foretaste of that recompense which 
awaits the man of integrity hereafter. Let us then, 
my brethren, go forward in the path which it points 
out to us, be it ever so thorny. Let us never to- 
lerate ourselves in the slightest deviation from it. 
And in all the temptations which may beset us, let 
us never forget this promise of a faithful God; 
" Say unto the righteous, it shall be well with them, 
they shall eat of the fruit of their doings. But 
woe unto the wicked ! it shall be ill with them, 
and the reward of their hands shall be given unto 
them. v 



SERMON XI 



CONTENTMENT. 
PHILIPPIANS IV. 11. 

For I have learned in whatsoever state 1 am, there" 
with to be content. 

The life of the Apostle Paul, from the period of 
his conversion up to the moment when he made 
this declaration, had been one continued series of 
sufferings and toil. It had been passed in travel- 
ling from country to country in the service of the 
gospel, enduring every species of hardship, and 
encountering every extremity of danger and dis- 
grace. He was assaulted by the populace, punished 
by the magistrates, scourged, beaten, left for dead. 
He expected, wherever he came, to meet with the 
same dangers and the same treatment ; to be cal- 
led on to make the same sacrifices of ease and 
pleasure to the cause which he had espoused. At 
the very moment when he wrote this epistle to 
the Philippians, he was held in prison at Rome ; 
yet, unwearied by his long confinement, unsubdued 



CONTENTMENT. 



121 



by anxiety, want, labour, persecution ; unaffected 
by frequent experience of perverseness, prejudice, 
ingratitude, desertion ; undismayed by the prospect 
of death itself, we hear the suffering Apostle 
calmly declare, " I have learned in whatsoever 
state I am, therewith to be content." 

This state of tranquil acquiescence in such evils 
is beyond measure enviable ; and we must feel in- 
terested in ascertaining by what process of mind 
he had attained to it. We cannot indeed expect 
to enjoy all the sources of consolation, which the 
Apostle possessed; but, on the other hand, we are 
to remember, that we are not called on to endure 
the same trials. Many of the grounds of content- 
ment, which we may suppose to have been present 
to him, are common to every thoughtful and be- 
lieving mind; and it will be my object at this time 
to recal some of them to your remembrance. 

It may be necessary to observe in the first place 
that we have no reason to think that the content- 
ment of the Apostle arose from any peculiar feli- 
city of natural temper. There is found in some 
men a constant disposition to look on the bright 
side of things ; a certain spring and elasticity of 
temper which calamity cannot long press down ; 
a buoyancy of spirit which rises above the waves 
of misfortune ; an ever active fancy, which invests 
every object with gay and cheerful colours, and is 
never weary of creating visionary pictures of ap- 
proaching felicity. But beside that this peculiar 
16 



122 



CONTENTMENT. 



amenity of temper is confined to a few, it can ne- 
ver be trusted in as a secure ground of contentment 
even by its favored possessor. No habit or disposition 
is permanent and safe that is not raised on the solid 
and indestructible basis of principle ; and instances 
are not wanting of those in whom a long series of 
disasters and disappointments has soured and de- 
stroyed this cheerful temper, and changed the gay 
and fond enthusiast into a severe and gloomy mi- 
santhrope. 

Nor did the contentment of the Apostle arise 
from that torpor and inactivity of mind, those 
frigid and phlegmatic feelings, which make some 
men acquiesce in the evils of their condition, be- 
cause they are too insensible to feel them with 
keenness, or too indolent to allow themselves to 
be made unhappy by them. It was something, 
which he had learned, not inherited from nature ; 
a principle which was taught him by his religion, 
not given with his constitution; it was not the 
transient vegetation, which is called forth by the 
breeze, and cut down by the blast, but the solid 
and deep-rooted product of virtuous sentiment and 
holy affection. 

In order to arrive at this state of unruffled content- 
ment with ourcondition,it is necessary that we should 
begin by freeing ourselves as much as possible from 
the influence of artificial wants, and those desires 
which are produced by a comparison of our lot with 
that of others, Originally all our wishes are pro- 



CONTENTMENT. 



123 



duced only by the actual wants of nature ; but the 
refinements of society produce new desires and ar- 
tificial passions, and we begin at length to feel 
wants in consequence of our wishes. Imagination 
stamps a value on many things which have no use 
but because we have agreed to value them, and 
they afterwards pass currently as the representa- 
tives of real goods. The actual and original wants 
of nature are few and easily supplied; and he who 
can learn to narrow his wishes to his necessities, 
will make a surprising deduction from the mass of 
human infelicity. To lessen the number of our 
desires is in fact the same thing, at least produces 
the same effect, as proportionably to increase the 
means of gratifying them ; and he who can reduce 
his wishes within the limit of the real demands of 
nature, will place himself beyond the reach of by 
far the greater number of the usual sources of dis- 
content. 

In imitating the Apostle Paul in this respect 
however, we shall not be called on to contract our 
desires within the bounds of absolute necessity. 
There probably is not one within the sound of 
my voice to whom the goodness of God has not 
given all the important conveniences of life. To 
make any one of us, my friends, contented with 
his condition, it is only necessary that we should 
cease to compare what we possess with what has 
been given to others; to consider the real value of 
our blessings instead of thinking only how they might 



124 



CONTENTMENT. 



have been increased. The fair question in examin- 
ing the happiness or unhappiness of our condition 
is not whether we should not be happier with 
more, but whether we have not now enough for 
enjoyment ; not whether more might not be desi- 
rable, but whether more is necessary. You say 
that you are less rich than your happier neighbour* 
It is not necessary in order to show that this is no 
ground of discontent, to prove that you overrate 
the advantages of riches, and forget the cares and 
anxieties which always accompany them. Let it 
be granted that they are as desirable as your ima- 
gination paints them, the question is not whether 
riches are good, but whether mediocrity is an evil ; 
whether you may not be a rational, wise, and hap- 
py being, even though you should remain as you 
now are. This is, I conceive, the test which we 
are to apply to all our wants ; and if we would do 
it fairly, I cannot say that all our wants would dis- 
appear, but I do venture to affirm that the number 
of them would be diminished beyond our expecta- 
tion. If we would view life thus fairly and soberly, 
we should find that the evils, which were made so 
great by the false medium through which we had 
surveyed them, are far from being insupportable. 
The mists and fogs which caused human calamity 
to appear like a mountain, spreading its base to the 
horizon, and hiding its head in the clouds, would 
clear away, and we should see only an acclivity, 
which may slightly impede our progress, but which 



CONTENTMENT. 



125 



with resolution and perseverance, we may easily 
overpass. 

Another help to a contented disposition, is to 
learn to estimate the goods of life by their real 
value, and to think more of what we possess, and 
less of what we want. After all, the common 
blessings which we all in a greater or less degree 
possess, are really the most important. What is 
there, which can be put into comparison with the 
blessings of daily bread, and nightly rest, of sound 
bodies, and vigorous understandings, of society, of 
children, and parents, and brothers, and friends ? 
Let us remember, too, that the greatest of all 
blessings are those which reside in the mind and 
are therefore in a great measure independent of 
external circumstances. It is our intellectual ad- 
vantages alone, which, to the sober eye of reason, 
purged of the films of prejudice and folly, appear 
worthy of our solicitude. It is wisdom, virtue, in- 
tegrity, an enlightened understanding, a well regu- 
lated heart, a delight in the exercise of justice and 
mercy ; it is to learn to think rationally and nobly, 
to learn to govern ourselves, to conquer our lusts, 
to use our faculties according to the will of the 
Giver, to love God above all things, and our neigh- 
bour as ourselves, to acquire an habitual inclination 
to what is right and good, and great, and holy and 
pure, to make, in fine, the christian temper and the 
christian hopes familiar to our hearts ; — this is 
to possess what alone is really good, what is inv- 



126 



CONTENTMENT. 



mortal as the mind itself, what no shock of misfor- 
tune can impair, and what we may still enjoy, even 
though we have neither riches nor greatness, nor 
power, nor even vigour nor health. 

But though considerations like these, will sweep 
the list of human calamity of many of the most 
weighty evils of life, yet it must be acknowledged, 
that there will still remain some, which are too real, 
and too severe, to be explained away or disguised* 
A habit of contented acquiescence under these 
evils can be, I a'm persuaded, effectually produc- 
ed, only by views which are peculiarly christian. 
The temper of humility, which the gospel labours 
so much to form in us, tends directly and powerful- 
ly to this end. The basis of all discontent is pride 
under some or other of its forms, or a belief that 
our condition is below our deserts. We are con- 
tinually disposed by our tendency to vanity, to 
look at the bright side of our characters and the 
dark side of our condition, and, as has been some- 
what pointedly said, it is almost as rare to find a 
man, who thinks he has too little merit, as to find 
one who thinks he has too much wealth or honour. 
But the murmur of discontent will be silenced, the 
moment it rises in the breast of any one, who has 
that deep sense which the gospel nourishes in 
every christian, of his own incapacity to judge of 
what is best for himself, or the whole system with 
which he is connected, and of his unworthiness 
to enjoy even the blessings which he still pos- 



CONTENTMENT. 



127 



sesses. He surely who feels that he has all, and 
more than all, that he deserves, will never repine, 
though that all should be less than is allotted to 
many of his fellow beings. 

But the great and unfailing ground of content- 
ment to a christian, is laid in his love of God, and 
his confidence that all things are ordained by him 
for the wisest and most benevolent purposes. It is 
of the very nature of sincere love of God, to re- 
joice that his will is done on earth as it is in hea- 
ven. We feel it to be right that the purposes of 
the wisest and best of beings should be accomplish- 
ed. We are sure that God denies us nothing 
which it would be truly good for us to possess. He 
who has given us so much, would give us more, if 
more would be truly a blessing. It was in this 
view of the divine government, and of the tenden- 
cy of all events to the production of good, that the 
venerable Apostle found the secret of contented 
acquiescence under all the hardships of his condi- 
tion. It was this which enabled him, though feeble 
with age, worn down by calamity and emaciated 
by imprisonment, to declare to the Philippians, 
" Since all the things, that have happened to me 
have fallen out to the furtherance of the gospel, 
and every way, whether in pretence or in truth, 
Christ is preached, I therein do rejoice, yea, and 
will rejoice ;" — since the cause of my beloved Mas- 
ter is promoted by my privations and sufferings, 
welcome this toil, and want, and disgrace ; welcome 



128 



CONTENTMENT, 



these chains and this prison ; for such a cause, and 
such a master, welcome all that man can inflict ; 
welcome death itself. 

Another source of contentment to a christian, and 
the last which I shall suggest, is drawn from the 
view of the purposes of his being, and the estimate of 
this life, which his religion teaches him to make. A 
christian feels that he is sent into this world but as 
a pilgrim and a stranger. The present is but a 
life of probation, a scene of discipline, a state for 
the formation of habits and feelings which are to 
be ultimately exercised and exalted in a future 
and spiritual state. The events of life are arrang- 
ed by divine Providence in order to conduce to 
these purposes. We must sometimes be tried by- 
adversity, in order that we may exercise the pas- 
sive virtues, which Christianity so much values. We 
must sometimes be called to the harder trial of 
prosperity, in order to put to the test the stability 
of our resolutions, and the strength of our holy af- 
fections. In this way, health and sickness, riches 
and poverty, success and disappointment, all the 
circumstances, which give the colouring to our con- 
dition, and according to which we are denominated 
happy or unfortunate, are really sent to us with the 
same wise design of exhibiting and improving the 
principles of our minds, and the feelings of our 
hearts. Take but the estimate which Christianity 
gives you of this life ; remember what it so solemn- 
ly declares, that " the things which are seen are 



CONTENTMENT. 



129 



temporal, but the things which are unseen are eter- 
nal ;" — listen but to the voice of religious wisdom, 
which reminds you that " the fashion of this world 
passes away;" — and the inequalities of this life will 
lose their importance ; the rising murmur of dis- 
content will be checked ; the pang of anxiety will 
be assuaged; the wounded bosom of sorrow will 
be healed, and the groan of despair will forever be 
silenced. 

Meanwhile, the perpetual vicissitudes of this un- 
certain state, the peculiar trials and difficulties with 
which the life of a christian is chequered, and still 
more the humiliating remembrance of our own in- 
firmities, should teach us to look forward with joy 
and expectation to that promised day, when the 
hard fought warfare of the christian soldier shall be 
ended ; when the pilgrim shall arrive at his jour- 
ney's end, and find that its toils are over; when 
the stranger shall reach his home ; w r hen he shall 
be delivered from the bondage of corruption, and 
sorrow and sighing shall flee away forever. This 
hope is the pure and steadfast anchor of his soul 
amid the waves and storms of life ; the star in the 
east which guides his steps towards his Saviour's 
mansions, and cheers him on hi& way ; the pillar of 
fire, which, amid the dangers, perplexities, and er- 
rors, of that wilderness, the world, shines with 
bright and inextinguishable lustre, and will conduct 
him, if he faint not on his way, to the bosom of his 
Father and his God. 

J7 



SERMON XII. 



ORIGINALITY OF THE CHRISTIAN SYSTEM. 

JOHN, VII. 15, 16. 

And the Jews marvelled, saying, How knoweth this 
man letters, having never learned ? Jesus answered 
them, and said, my doctrine is not mine, but his 
that sent me. 

In order to conceive of the surprise, which the 
Saviour must have excited among his countrymen, 
it is necessary to forget the views of his character 
and doctrines in which we have been educated, and 
consider the circumstances under which he origi- 
nally produced himself before his countrymen. 

From a remote province of Palestine, we must 
recollect, a man in the appearance of a Jewish 
peasant comes forward, and advances a new and 
most extraordinary claim. He was about thirty 
years of age, and hitherto had excited attention 
only by the singular correctness with which he dis- 
charged the common duties of his station ; except 
indeed, that his mother had treasured some very 



ORIGINALITY OF THE CHRISTIAN SYSTEM. 131 



remarkable occurrences, which attended his birth 
and early years. He appeared as the son of a 
carpenter ; and as at that time the rudiments of li- 
terature were confined to an extremely small num- 
ber, even in the higher walks of life, he must, 
from the circumstances of his situation, have been 
w r holly deprived of them. He could have known 
no other books than the writings of Moses and the 
Prophets; he had no learned master to instruct 
him ; he had visited no refined cities, listened to 
no profound philosophers, and apparently was 
possessed of no means of gaining more enlarged 
views than the rest of his countrymen, of the same 
rank in life with himself. Notwithstanding all 
these disadvantages, he comes forward with no 
less a claim than to be the Son of God himself, the 
Redeemer and destined Judge of the human race. 

That such an idea should have entered the ima- 
gination of such a person would be sufficiently sur- 
prising to his countrymen ; but their surprise must 
have arisen to amazement,when they saw that every 
thing in his words and actions corresponded to his 
claims. They saw the laws of nature yielding to his 
control. He stood over the grave of a dead man, and 
declared that he was the resurrection and the life ; 
and to confirm his words, death instantly relaxes 
his grasp, and the grave gives up its prey. Hav- 
ing by this and similar displays of his power esta- 
blished his authority, he confronted the most 
learned and profound doctors of the Jewish law, 



132 ORIGINALITY OF THE CHRISTIAN SYSTEM. 



exposed their perversions, rectified their errors, 
and spake as never man spake, on the perfections 
of God, the duties of man, and the scenes of eter- 
nity. As they listened to his gracious words, his 
astonished countrymen, remembering his humble 
origin, exclaimed, " How knoweth this man letters," 
or as another evangelist has it, " whence has this 
man his wisdom, not having learned ?" Jesus gives 
a reply which involves the divine origin of Christi- 
anity, " my doctrine is not mine, but his that sent 
me." 

Now, I think, it will be admitted, that if the 
case were really so ; if our Saviour did really dis- 
play such wisdom as in his situation no one could 
have acquired, the solution which he himself has 
given of it must be the only true one — its origin 
was divine. That this was the fact, I shall offer 
some reasons to show. In order to do this, it will 
not be necessary to insist at all on the external 
evidence of it ; though that is much greater, than 
for any other fact of equal antiquity. We may 
confine ourselves to this single position, that such 
was the originality of the doctrines of Christ, that 
he could not have learned them from any human 
source. The originality, then, of the christian sys- 
tem, as illustrating the divinity of its claims, will be 
the subject of the present discourse. 

1. The first mark of originality, which I shall 
notice, is, that before the time of our Saviour no 
nne had ever conceived the idea of a universal re- 



ORIGINALITY OF THE CHRISTIAN SYSTEM. 133 



ligion. The institutions of Moses were in their 
nature local and temporary, and exclusively design- 
ed for a particular people. The heathen nations 
had each their appropriate tutelary Gods, and pe- 
culiar rites of worship ; and none of their legislators 
seem to have extended their views beyond the 
people to whom they were called to give laws. 
The philosophers of antiquity, in the instructions 
which they gave in religion and morals, confined 
themselves to a small circle of chosen followers. 
So far were they from thinking of the good of all 
mankind, that the whole mass of the poor and illi- 
terate, even of their own countrymen, was utterly 
overlooked and despised ; and Socrates himself, the 
noblest name among them, did not even attempt 
to destroy the idolatry of Athens, or produce the 
slightest revolution in the general manners of his 
countrymen. 

From the bosom of the Jewish nation — a peo- 
ple of all others the most narrow and exclusive, 
one of whose most remarkable characteristics 
it was to believe that their nation had a separate and 
peculiar claim on the divine favour — from among 
such a people as this, first proceeded the sublime 
conception of a religion, which should break down all 
national and local distinctions, and comprehend in 
its generous design the whole human race. " Go 
and teach all nations," said our Saviour, and the an- 
nals of time gave him no precedent for his words. 
" Ye shall be witnesses unto me. both in Jerusalem 



134 ORIGINALITY OF THE CHRISTIAN SYSTEM. 

and in all Judea, and in Samaria, and unto the ut- 
termost parts of the earth." Others had attempted 
the improvement of individuals, of a single city, 
or a single nation ; but it was reserved for a Jew- 
ish peasant to conceive the grand and divinely be- 
nevolent idea of a religion adapted to every rank, 
and nation, and age ; to propose the emancipation 
of a world from error, superstition, and sin ; to 
bring the whole family of mankind, Jew and 
Greek, Barbarian and Scythian, bond and free, to 
the throne of the Universal Parent. Whence, we 
may ask, had this man his wisdom, if it was not 
from above? 

2. We may observe, as another mark of origi- 
nality in the doctrine of Christ, that he gave the 
first perfect system of human duty, enforced by ade- 
quate sanctions. Although the popular religions 
of antiquity consisted of rights and ceremonies 
which had no proper connexion with morals, we 
must still admit, that if you look through the 
writings of many centuries, and select all the de- 
tached passages which are scattered through them, 
you may find nearly all the chief precepts of chris- 
tian morals, though indeed always in company with 
many useless and bewildering speculations, and 
maxims fundamentally erroneous. But morality, 
as it has its foundation in the nature and condition 
of man, is not, properly speaking, an object of dis- 
covery. When, therefore, we say that our Sa- 
viour gave the first perfect system of moral and 



ORIGINALITY OF THE CHRISTIAN SYSTEM. 135 



religious duty, we mean not that he made disco- 
veries in morals, but simply, that if before the 
New Testament was written, a man had desired to 
find a complete and unexceptionable compend of 
his duties to God, to himself, and to his fellow men, 
not only was there no such a compend to be found, 
but nothing which made an approach to it. There 
was no system in which God was distinctly repre- 
sented as one God; the universal Parent, as well 
as moral Governor of his creatures ; the object of 
their confidence and love ; to whose will all their 
actions were to be referred ; — no system in which 
it was made our duty and happiness to have in 
view, not our own interest and gratification alone, 
but the happiness and improvement of our fellow 
men; no system in which we were taught the obli- 
gation of the most universal and inviolable personal 
purity, extending not merely to our external actions, 
but to the thoughts and intentions from which those 
actions proceed ; or in which, in fine, this life was 
represented as a scene of preparation for another, 
and the only adequate motive therefore was given 
to make us bear up against the violence of passion, 
resist temptation of present advantage, to support 
the hope of struggling virtue, and aid the confi- 
dence of suffering innocence. These are the great 
principles of the moral system of the gospel, which 
though they might have been separately recogniz- 
ed in some form or other, were never brought to- 
gether and embodied in one comprehensive and 



136 ORIGINALITY OF THE CHRISTIAN SYSTEM. 

harmonious whole, till they fell from the lips of 
our Saviour. 

Every thing in the detail of this system is wor- 
thy of its fundamental principles; perfectly intel- 
ligible, correct, consistent and complete. No ge- 
nuine virtue is omitted ; no false principle, no im- 
moral maxim, is tolerated. Those passive and re- 
tiring virtues of humanity, forgiveness, humility, 
contentment, patience, resignation, so much over- 
looked and disdained before, are here for the first 
time brought forward into the rank of primary and 
essential duties. Those more dazzling qualities, 
which form what the world esteems the heroic 
character, are regulated, repressed, or else absorb- 
ed in more enlarged and less dangerous principles. 
No virtue in this system is carried to excess; no 
stress is laid on one, to the exclusion of others ; 
no external rite is substituted in the place of mo- 
ral goodness ; no one duty of whatever rank and 
value, is permitted to supersede or atone for the 
absence of another ; but every one finds its proper 
place, and is arranged in its proper order and con- 
nexion. It is a system, in its foundation and super- 
structure, in its plan and its details, so comprehensive 
and complete, that the wisdom of man, improved 
by the experience of ages, can find in it nothing 
which requires addition, or admits of improve- 
ment. 

Now, what we remark as original and peculiar 
in this case is, not so much that individual virtues 



ORIGINALITY OF THE CHRISTIAN SYSTEM. 137 



are correctly taught, as that they are all brought 
together and digested into a perfect system, in 
which nothing is wanting, and nothing is superfluous. 
In order to feel how wonderful this is, we must 
recollect how little comparatively the wisdom of 
philosophy did actually effect. We may take 
the strongest case which can be put. Just before 
the times of our Saviour, Cicero wrote a book on 
the moral duties of man. He was profoundly 
skilled in the Greek philosophy, and was himself one 
of the most highly gifted of men. His book must 
therefore be considered as the last and most per- 
fect result of unaided human reason. Without in- 
sisting on its want of authority, or the fact, that 
many genuine virtues, especially the passive and 
devotional ones, are wholly omitted, and that many 
false and equivocal qualities are extravagantly com- 
mended, it is enough to observe that it is funda- 
mentally and essentially defective in this particular, 
that the obligation of virtue is never once placed 
on its proper ground — our relation to God ; and 
that its practice is never enforced by the only ade- 
quate sanction — our relation to a future world. 

Consider what a phenomenon is here ! That, 
which all the wisdom of Greece and Rome was 
unable to effect, is consummated at a single effort 
by an unlettered peasant, educated amidst the ma- 
lignant prejudices and narrow bigotry of the Jew- 
ish nation. If from one of the most obscure of 
our villages, a man wholly without advantages 
18 



138 ORIGINALITY OF THE CHRISTIAN SYSTEM. 

should bring forward the complete system of the 
Newtonian philosophy, it would not reach the sin- 
gularity of this case. Whence then had this man 
his wisdom ? Admit his own account of it, that it 
was not his, but God's, who sent him, and every 
thing is easy and clear. Deny it, and you will have 
a moral miracle to account for, incomparably great- 
er than any which Christianity calls you to believe. 

We have remarked that the gospel of Christ is 
original in the comprehensiveness of its design, and 
in the perfection both of its fundamental prin- 
ciples, its particular details, and its general plan. 
We might now proceed to show that the manner 
in which the gospel was introduced, and the means 
provided for its duration and defence in after ages, 
are also wholly original and peculiar. Both of 
these topics would- afford many strong illustrations 
of the general subject of this discourse, but they 
open a field too wide to be at present occupied. 
Let us hasten to remark, in the last place, on the 
originality of the character of our Saviour himself. 

3. We find in the life of Jesus an union of quali- 
ties, which had never before met in any being on 
this earth. We find embodied in his example the 
highest virtues both of active and of contempla- 
tive life. We see united in him a devotion to 
God, the most intense, abstracted, unearthly, with 
a benevolence to man, the most active, affectionate, 
and universal. We see qualities meet and harmo- 
nize in his character, which are usually thought 



ORIGINALITY OP THE CHRISTIAN SYSTEM. 139 



the most uncongenial. We see a force of charac- 
ter, which difficulties cannot conquer, an energy 
which calamity cannot relax, a fortitude and con- 
stancy which sufferings can neither subdue nor 
bend from their purpose, connected with the most 
melting tenderness and sensibility of spirit, the 
most exquisite susceptibility to every soft and gen- 
tle impression. We see in him the rare union of 
zeal and moderation, of courage and prudence, of 
compassion and firmness ; we see superiority to the 
world without gloom or severity, or indifference or 
distaste to its pursuits and enjoyments. In short, 
there is something in the whole conception and te- 
nor of our Saviour's character so entirely peculiar, 
something which so realizes the ideal model of the 
most consummate moral beauty, something so love- 
ly, so gracious, so venerable and commanding, that 
the boldest infidels have shrunk from it overawed ; 
and though their cause is otherwise desperate, 
have yet feared to profane its perfect purity. 
One of the most eloquent tributes to its sublimity 
that was ever uttered, was extorted from the lips 
of an infidel. " Is there any thing in it," he ex- 
claims, " of the tone of an enthusiast or of an am- 
bitious sectary? What sweetness, what purity, in 
his manners ; what touching grace in his instruc- 
tions ; what elevation in his maxims ; what profound 
wisdom in his discourses ; what presence of mind, 
what skill and propriety in his answers ; what em- 
pire over his passions ! Where is the man, where 



140 ORIGINALITY OF THE CHRISTIAN SYSTEM. 



is the sage, who knows how to act, to suffer and 
to die, without weakness and without ostentation. 
When Plato paints his imaginary just man covered 
with all the ignominy of crime, and yet worthy 
of all the honours of virtue, he paints in every 
feature the character of Christ. What prejudice, 
what blindness must possess us to compare the 
son of Sophroniscus to the son of Mary. How 
vast the distance between them. Socrates, dying 
without pain and without ignominy, easily sustains his 
character to the last ; and if this gentle death had 
not honoured his life, we might have doubted 
whether Socrates, with all his genius, was anything 
more than a sophist. The death of Socrates phi- 
losophizing tranquilly with his friends, is the most 
easy that one could desire ; that of Jesus expir- 
ing in torture, insulted, mocked, execrated by a 
whole people, is the most horrible that one can 
fear. Socrates, when he takes the poisoned cup, 
blesses him who weeps as he presents it; Jesus, in 
the midst of the most dreadful tortures, prays for 
his infuriated executioners. — Yes ! if the life and 
death of Socrates are those of a sage — the life 
and death of Jesus are wholly divine." 

Now let me ask whether, if for this perfect 
conformity with his own perfect precepts our Sa- 
viour had no model, not only among his own coun- 
trymen, but in the wide world ; if nothing like it 
had ever before appeared, or been imagined ; if 
Ave find in his situation not one external advantage 



ORIGINALITY OP THE CHRISTIAN SYSTEM. 141 

which could give the promise of such a character, 
but every thing most adverse to it ; if we are un- 
able to assign a single circumstance adapted to 
raise his mind above the depression of the gross- 
ness and superstition which surrounded him ; must 
we not feel, that to say that this greatest and pu- 
rest of all characters was at the same time the 
greatest of all hypocrites and impostors, is to assert 
a most glaring and absurd contradiction? 

If you say, against all evidence, that this cha- 
racter is fictitious, and never really existed, you 
increase instead of lessening the prodigy. You 
make the histories of the evangelists the greatest 
wonder of human invention. That for the purposes 
of fraud, these simple and unlearned men should 
be inspired with powers for the most difficult of 
all the efforts of genius, the consistent and harmo- 
nious representation of a perfect character, cannot 
for a moment engage our belief. That ignorant 
Jewish impostors, without any model to copy from, 
should have succeeded in the delineation of a cha- 
racter so wholly original, placed in circumstances 
so various and new, especially where supernatural 
agency is introduced, is surely beyond all compari- 
son more difficult of belief, than that the God of 
benevolence, in mercy to his children, should have 
sent his Son on the earth to realize such a charac- 
ter, and to teach us by his perfect example how 
we should live, how we should suffer, and a still 
harder lesson, how we should die. 



142 ORIGINALITY OP THE CHRISTIAN SYSTEM. 

Such are some of the grounds on which it is ap- 
parent that the gospel is a system altogether origi- 
nal, and unborrowed from any human source ; and 
that its fundamental principles are such that it 
is impossible to suppose they should have pro- 
ceeded from one under the circumstances of our 
Saviour, unless God had been with him. This, it 
is to be remembered, is a view of the evidences 
of Christianity from but a single point ; and one 
which has been but little noticed. If then the 
argument appears so strong when rested on this 
single ground, how great must be the accumulated 
evidences from history, from its prophecies, its mi- 
racles, its internal marks of credibility, and its uni- 
versal conformity to the wants and feelings of 
mankind. If a single and almost neglected pillar of 
this temple be so strong, how vast, how august, 
how eternal must be the foundation on which it 
reposes ? 



SERMON XIII. 



SAVING FAITH. 

acts, x. 34, 35. 

Then Peter opened his mouth and said, of a truth I 
perceive that God is no respecter of persons ; but 
in every nation, he that feareth Him, and worketh 
righteousness, is accepted with Him. 

We have here one proof, from among many, of 
the slowness with which the minds of the first dis- 
ciples of our Lord were opened to the liberal and 
comprehensive spirit of his gospel. Educated with 
all the prejudices of a Jew, Peter had supposed 
that his own nation was the peculiar object of that 
divine favour, from which all others were entirely 
removed. The prayers and alms of an uncircum- 
cised Roman must be, he had supposed, an abomi- 
nation in the sight of God. He had thought, in all 
the pride of his nation's bigotry, that the universal 
Father of mankind had no grace to bestow on any, 
who had not the happiness to be born among the 



144 



SAVING FAITH. 



children of Abraham. He never had dreamed 
that the privileges and hopes of the gospel were 
to be extended to those who had not subscribed to 
the creed, and conformed to the ritual, of the great 
Legislator of Judea. But his prejudices had not 
closed his mind to conviction; and God was pleas- 
ed to grant him a proof, which he could not resist, 
that he was not the God of the Jews only — that he 
was not a partial respecter of persons or any pecu- 
liar people ; but the just, the equal Parent of all 
the creatures of his hand. He now perceived that 
Cornelius, though born amidst the darkness of 
idolatry, and nursed in the lap of ignorance and er- 
ror, yet, having used with fidelity the means and 
opportunities put into his hands, having reverenced 
the Divinity according to the best conceptions 
which he could form of his character, and having 
acted in conformity to the convictions of his con- 
science — that this pagan Cornelius was heard by 
the Supreme, and that his alms were had in re- 
membrance before him. The Apostle was led by 
this proof of the impartial benignity of the Most 
High, to the great conclusion of our text; "Of a 
truth I perceive that God is no respecter of per- 
sons ; but in every nation he that feareth Him, and 
worketh righteousness, is accepted with him." 

The doctrine of the text evidently supposes, that 
in every nation and age, there exist the means of 
forming some idea of a God, and of the distinctions 



SAVING FAITH. 



145 



of right and wrong. There is no human being to 
whom these great privileges are wholly denied. 
The image of a Power above us, to which we 
are responsible, exists under some form or other 
in every mind. The authority of conscience is felt 
in every breast. There is no speech nor language 
where its voice is not heard. Now the Apostle 
teaches us, that every one, in every nation, who 
faithfully uses the measure of light and knowledge 
imparted to him, however limited and imperfect it 
may be, will yet be finally accepted. A man will 
be judged according to that which he hath, and 
not according to that which he hath not. Those 
nations of the earth on whom the light of the gos- 
pel never shone, will not suffer from not complying 
with conditions of salvation of which they never 
heard. The Gentiles without the law of Christi- 
anity are a law to themselves; and by their obedi- 
ence or disobedience to the light which is given 
them, will they stand or fall at the great day of 
account. 

However mysterious, then, may be that dis- 
pensation of Providence, by which so much in- 
equality exists among the members of the hu- 
man race, still we are sure that there is no injus- 
tice with God ; He will condemn none for necessa- 
ry ignorance, and He will punish none for involun- 
tary error. The poor heathen, and the privileged 
christian will both stand before their Maker on 
equal terms ; and each will be required to give an 
19 



146 



SAVING FAITH. 



account of the talents — and of those talents only, 
which his God has confided to him. 

But it is not my present purpose to dwell on a 
point, which I am persuaded must be so clear to 
you all, as that God, the common Parent, is not less 
merciful and just to those of his children from 
whom he has withheld the gospel, than to those to 
whom he has given it. It is rather my desire to 
apply the principle of the text to the christian 
world. It seems to me that it may unfold some 
views which are consoling, under a sense of the 
fallibility and ignorance from which not even chris- 
tians are exempt ; and may lend some aid to our 
charity, as well as some light to our faith. 

Whoever surveys, even slightly, the face of 
Christendom, must be struck with observing the va- 
riety of opinions, which exist on many subjects con- 
nected with the gospel. He sees indeed some 
transcendent truths, which all alike unite in believ- 
ing. But on many others, and those certainly most 
interesting ones, this unanimity vanishes. He sees 
the great communities of Christendom arrayed un- 
der different banners, and the cries of those, who 
exclaim, " We are of Paul, and we of Apollos, and 
we of Cephas," overpower the milder accents of 
those, who profess that " they are of Christ alone." 
He finds almost every one of the principal sects 
laying the greatest stress on its own peculiarity. 
From the seven hills of Rome he hears it pro- 
claimed, that within her Catholic and Apostolic 



SAVING FAITH. 



147 



pale there can be no error, and without it no sal- 
vation. He sees other churches also, though pro- 
fessing to glory in that great Reformation, which 
was founded on the principle that it is the right and 
duty of every man to judge of religion for himself, 
with no responsibility but to God — yet, with a la- 
mentable inconsistency, assuming the badge of in- 
fallibility which they had torn from the papal 
brow, and denying the name of christian to him, 
who will not measure his faith by their standard. 
Amidst this variety and discordance of opinion, the 
humble disciple is often perplexed and distressed. 
The question of Pilate " what is truth," bursts anx- 
iously from his lips. How shall I know when I 
have found so much of it as is necessary for my sal- 
vation ? How can I be certain, after my best en- 
deavours to discover it, that I may not still fatally 
err, and lose all interest in my Saviour's promises ? 
I see on all sides, in every communion, men of 
learning and integrity, of piety and benevolence, 
men who are incapable of intentional deception, and 
who have no imaginable motive to deceive. By 
what criterion shall I discover with which of them 
truth resides, and which of them may be followed 
without hazard to my salvation ? 

The Scriptures have not left us without the 
means of satisfying our minds on this interesting 
subject. We have in our text the assurance, that 
no man who inquires after his duty with the fear 
of God before his eyes, and who uses his best en-* 



148 



SAVING FAITH. 



deavours to perform it, will fail of final acceptance. 
Let us inquire more particularly into the meaning 
and extent of this principle. 

There is nothing in it inconsistent with the re- 
peated declarations of scripture, that we are justi- 
fied by faith — that without faith, it is impossible to 
please God. All that it asserts is, that the value 
of faith depends not so much on the opinions which 
we hold, as on the spirit and temper with which 
we inquire for, and embrace them. It is not mea- 
sured by the state of our understandings, so much 
as by the dispositions of our hearts. It is to be test- 
ed not so much by the kind or number of propositions 
which we believe, as by the practical and habitual 
influence of a few great principles, which no sincere 
inquirer after the truth as it is in Jesus can fail of 
attaining. Two things only are declared to be ne- 
cessary to our final acceptance; first, that Ave should 
use the means of religious knowledge which are 
put into our hands, in the fear of Almighty God ; 
and secondly, that we should act uniformly accord- 
ing to our best sense of right and duty. To fear 
God is to have an awe of the divine perfections ; 
to cherish a sense of our accountability to him 
and to make his will our supreme rule, to the ex- 
clusion of all fear of man, and all worldly advan- 
tage. He therefore who opens the scriptures with 
this sentiment of reverence for God's authority, and 
uses all his lights and means to understand them ; 
who faithfully acts in obedience to the dictates of 



SAVING FAITH. 



149 



his duty so far as it is known to him ; such a man, 
whatever may be the result of his inquiries, will 
have the essence of that faith which God will ap- 
prove and accept. 

To what other conclusion, indeed, could we have 
come, even if the scriptures had been silent on this 
subject? What other test of saving faith can there 
be, than that which is given by a sincere and con- 
scientious employment of the means which God has 
put into our hands ? If you make the criterion of 
justifying faith to be the accuracy of the results of our 
inquiries, without regard to the different capacities 
and opportunities of mankind, you make faith to de- 
pend on the state of the understanding ; and then he 
who has the wisest head, not he who has the purest 
and humblest heart, will be saved. This is evi- 
dently opposed to the whole spirit of the gospel, 
and every one who believes in the justice of the 
Most High, is entitled to say that it cannot be true, 

But still it may be said, " are there not some essen- 
tial doctrines of the gospel, which every man must 
believe, who hopes for salvation ; and the denial of 
which must forfeit his right to the christian name ?" 
My brethren, this distinction between doctrines 
that are essential, and doctrines that are not es- 
sential, is one unknown to the scriptures, and which 
seems to me without any just foundation. All the 
doctrines of the scriptures are essential. They all 
rest on the same authority, and are all equally en- 
titled to our reverence. But before any doctrine 



150 



SAVING FAITH. 



can be obligatory, we must first have reason to be- 
lieve it to be contained in the scriptures ; and if, 
after an inquiry made in the fear of God, we do 
not find a given doctrine to be contained there, to 
us it is not essential. God will never mark it 
against us as sin, that we have not believed what 
we honestly think to be no part of his revealed 
will. Our ignorance and our errors, as far as they 
are involuntary, and do not arise from any wilful ne- 
glect of the means of God's grace, he will surely 
of his mercy forgive. It follows, that though all 
the doctrines of scripture are equally essential to 
him who knows them, all doctrines are not equally 
essential to all men. The objects of faith must be 
more or fewer, according to the different capaci- 
ties, the different opportunities, the different means 
and advantages, with which God has favoured dif- 
ferent men. What is essential to a christian, is not 
essential to a heathen. What is fundamental with 
one christian, may not be so with another. A truth 
which is essential to you, whom heaven has blessed 
with an enlarged mind, wise instructors, and an 
exemption from those hidden biasses which mislead 
in the search for truth, may not be essential to me, 
who am denied these privileges, and am unable, after 
my best efforts, to discover it. Those doctrines 
alone are equally essential to all christians, which 
all christians, who inquire after truth with sincere 
and upright minds, equally acknowledge to be the 
evident doctrines of the Bible. No one, who 



SAVING FAITH. 



151 



searches the scriptures with the fear of God before 
his eyes, need fear that he will not infallibly arrive 
at every truth which is essential to him. If I could 
doubt this, Christianity, instead of appearing to me 
a message of peace, of mercy, and celestial love, 
would become a subject of apprehension and dis- 
may. For if it be possible, that one sincerely ho- 
nest man may fatally err in his inquiry after his 
duty, then it is possible that every man may thus 
err. Who then, who had not a direct communica- 
tion from heaven, could have any confidence that 
he did not misconceive the whole system of Chris- 
tianity, and was not plunging himself into remedi- 
less perdition ? 

Perhaps, however, we may be told that " truth 
is one — there can be only a right and a wrong, a 
true and a false belief, and that they only who 
have the true faith can hope to be saved." This 
sentiment would have no inconsistency in the mouth 
of a Mahometan, or an advocate for papal infalli- 
bility, but it does not become the lips of a Protes- 
tant. If the consequence which is drawn from the 
principle of the unity of truth were a just one, 
another consequence also would be equally just, 
which is this, that no one of the whole human race 
can be saved. Truth, in its abstract and elemental 
state, is undoubtedly simple ; and in strictness, 
there can be only one view of it, which is a per- 
fectly just one. But that view is taken only by 
Him who is infinite in wisdom, and not by weak 



152 



SAVING FAITH. 



and erring mortals ; not by us, " who know but in 
part." If it were true that they only can be ac- 
cepted with God, to whose minds truth unfolds it- 
self without any mixture of error, who, that is not 
exempt from all human infirmity, could presume to 
think himself secure ? — But to escape from this 
conclusion, you may say, that a small degree of er- 
ror in our conceptions will be pardoned, but not 
error which extends to essential doctrines. We 
answer, that if you admit that any degree of error 
is pardonable, the argument for the unity of truth 
is gone, and what is essential must be determined 
on other grounds. All the considerations which 
have been urged, return with all their force, to 
bring you back to the very position we defend, 
which is, that the value of a christian's faith, so far 
as he is himself concerned, will be determined by the 
dispositions with which he seeks for and embraces 
it, and not by its entire exemption from error. You 
admit that something is to be pardoned to human 
frailty and ignorance — and who but the searcher of 
all hearts shall determine, how great that allow- 
ance to any individual shall be? 

The subject which we have thus considered, 
furnishes us with tAvo inferences; one., as to the 
judgment which we should pass on our own belief ; 
and another, as to the judgment which we should 
pass on the belief of others. 

The great question in examining the state of our 
faith, is not whether it is metaphysically just and 



SAVING FAITH. 153 

exact; not whether it agrees with that of others ; 
not whether we believe Avhat our forefathers or 
any body else believed ; not whether we embrace 
what men call orthodoxy or heresy. These ques- 
tions are not unimportant, I allow ; but they are 
nothing, when compared with such inquiries as 
these ; with what fidelity have we sought to obtain 
truth ; and what effects does our belief have on our 
practical conduct. If we can hope that we have 
faithfully and humbly used our means of know- 
ledge ; if we are true to the best convictions of our 
understandings, and the honest dictates of our con- 
sciences; if we can find in the habitual tenor of 
our lives the fruits of the Spirit ; then we may 
meekly trust, that whatever our errors may be, 
they are those of the head, and not of the heart ; 
and that God will not mark as guilt, the involuntary 
weakness of our understanding. But if our con- 
science tells us that we have not inquired for truth 
with the fear of God before our eyes, with a re- 
ference to his will, with humble prayer for the 
guidance of his Spirit, and with sincere dispositions 
and endeavours to live by the principles which we 
embrace, it will little avail us that we understand 
all knowledge and all mysteries. Though we may 
have embraced all the faith once delivered to the 
saints, we have not caught their temper with their 
creed. We have not charity, and we are nothing. 
We have not the spirit of Christ, and are none of 
his. 

20 



154 



SAVING FAITH. 



Our subject affords us, in the second place, an in- 
ference with regard to the judgment we should pass 
on the opinions of others. Since the dispositions 
with which men pursue and embrace truth, are 
known only to Him who knows the heart, the 
results of their inquiries furnish us with no test of 
their acceptableness with God. If the mere cir- 
cumstance that they differ from us in these results 
be taken as this test, how many must we unchris- 
tianize of the holiest men the world has ever seen t 
How many must we banish from us, who can say, 
with the ever-memorable Hales, " For truth I have 
forsaken all hopes, all friends, all desires, which 
might bias, or hinder me from driving right at what 
I aimed. For this, I have spent my wealth, my 
means, my youth, my age, and all I have. If, with 
all this cost and pains, my purchase is error, I can 
safely say, to err hath cost me more than it has 
many to find the truth." The only criterion by 
which we are allowed to judge the opinions of 
others, is the influence of their opinions on their 
lives. How absurd then is it, to overlook entirely 
this criterion, and to make a man's abstract opi- 
nions on the most abstruse and difficult subjects in 
the world, the test of his Christianity ! What a de- 
parture from the spirit and end of all religion! 
What an endless source of dissension, and what 
deep and lasting dishonour are thus heaped on the 
christian name ! It is melancholy to think how slow- 
ly mankind arrive at some of the simplest and 



SAVING FAITH. 



155 



plainest of all truths ; and how much it has been 
in the power of a few madmen to set the christian 
world on fire, and consume the fairest fruits of chris- 
tian faith and hope and charity. 

Do we then say that error is as good as truth ; 
that it is of no importance what a man believes, 
provided he sincerely believes it ? Far from it. 
Our faith is a part of our probation ; and it is the 
very maxim I would urge, that we are responsible 
to God for the conduct of our understanding in 
every inquiry after truth, and most of all after re- 
ligious truth. The doctrine of the text is simply 
that our power is the measure of our duty ; and 
that when we have honestly exerted the best fa- 
culties we possess, our humble efforts will be ac- 
cepted, and our imperfections will be forgiven. 

Still it may be supposed, that the opinion, that 
our acceptance with God will be determined, not so 
much by what we believe, as by the manner in 
which we have gained that belief, would tend to 
diminish our zeal for the propagation of truth in 
the world. But let us only consider the different 
effects of truth and error on the minds, and hearts, 
and present happiness of men; let us only consider 
how thick and dismal is the night of ignorance ; 
how stern and cruel is the reign of error, and we 
shall not want for motives to labour in propagating 
truth. Of what a progeny of evils is superstition 
every where the parent ; what bloody rites, what 
senseless and burdensome ceremonies, what degrad- 



156 



SAVING FAITH. 



ing views of our nature and of its Author, what de- 
basing terrors, does she not inspire and produce ! 
How are the noblest faculties of man subjugated to 
her yoke ! And even in the christian world, who but 
must mark the different effects of truth and error? 
How many are the evils, which have flowed from 
misconceptions of the true nature of the simple 
and sublime system of the gospel. How wide the 
difference in the freedom, the knowledge, the ele- 
vation, the happiness, of papal and protestant na- 
tions. 1 might go on and rehearse the thousand 
evils of the different forms of religious error, and 
the ten thousand blessings of religious truth. But 
one single consideration is enough. Think only 
how important w T ould be the consequence of a gen- 
eral diffusion of the single truth I am now endea- 
vouring to urge. What woes would it not have 
prevented in other times, if mankind would have 
admitted, that others had a claim to think and to 
judge as well as themselves ; and that their errors 
would be fatal only so far as the dispositions with 
which they cherished them were bad ? What ri- 
vers of christian blood might not then have for- 
borne to flow ! How foul a stain on the christian 
cause might then have been saved ! And even 
now, how many malignant passions, and uncharita- 
ble judgments, and unchristian impediments to the 
progress of inquiry and truth, would be avoided, if 
christians would but remember that error is not 
necessarily guilt. Who then, thinking thus of the 



SAVING FAITH. 



157 



benign effects, which the spread of truth in its ori- 
ginal purity and simplicity would produce, can want 
any motive to urge him to give his aid to its pro- 
gress, and join in the noble task of pouring light in- 
to the darkened mind of ignorance, chasing away 
the phantoms of error, and imparting the blessings 
of christian truth! Who that would not rejoice to 
contribute in any degree to so glorious, so divine a 
work ! 

There is no inconsistency, then, between an en- 
lightened and ardent zeal for truth, and all the 
charitable judgments on the religious state of others 
to which the doctrine of our text would lead us. 
Neither is there any want of the most powerful 
motives in our own case to be diligent in proving all 
things, and holding fast only what is true. Let us 
therefore use all diligence to add to our faith know- 
ledge, as well as virtue. Its price is above rubies. 

Let us concede the privilege we take ; and while 
with all fair and honourable weapons we contend 
earnestly for what we believe to be truth, let 
us not forget that our Christian feelings are more 
important than our speculative opinions, and that 
the worst of all heresies is a bad heart, and an un- 
charitable tongue. 



SERMON XIV 



STUDY OF THE SCRIPTURES. 

2 PETER, HI. 15, 16. 

Even as our beloved brother Paul also, according to 
the wisdom given unto him, hath written unto you, 
as also in all his epistles, speaking in them of 
these things ; in which are some things hard to 
be understood, which they that are unlearned and 
unstable wrest, as they do also the other scriptures, 
unto their own destruction. 

Every attentive and intelligent reader of the 
scriptures, must have felt the truth implied in this 
passage, that all the parts of the sacred volume 
are not equally easy o£ comprehension. That 
the fact should be thus, may at first view appear 
a thing strange and not to have been expected. 
It may seem strange that a professed revelation, 
or discovery of truths which were before obscure 
or unknown, should itself contain any thing diffi- 
cult or dark, and of course liable to be misunder- 
stood and perverted. And indeed with regard to 



STUDY OF THE SCRIPTURES. 



159 



the great, elemental, practical truths of religion, 
those which most affect the heart and influence 
the life, we find, what we should previously have 
expected, that they all appear in characters of 
light ; they are all perfectly plain and obvious to 
the humblest understanding. As it respects, how- 
ever, the minor and subsidiary doctrines of the gos- 
pel, many of them, it must be confessed, do require 
study and attention fully to be comprehended. 

In accounting for this partial obscurity we may 
say, that from the nature of written language, which 
is necessarily ambiguous and exposed to change, it 
was impossible to be avoided without a perpetual 
miracle. But though this answer is alone sufficient, 
we need not scruple to go farther, and to ask why, 
since no other advantage of body or mind is to be 
obtained in the ordinary course of Providence 
without labour, why should we expect that religion 
alone should descend supernaturally from the skies 
into minds, sluggish, incautious, uninterested, and 
unprepared for its reception ? The wants of the 
mind, we maybe assured, will no more be supplied 
without industry and activity on our part, than the 
wants of the body ; and as the body we know 
will die, if we use no effort to sustain it by neces- 
sary food, so also the soul, if its powers are not 
brought into vigorous and steady exercise, will pe- 
rish for lack of knowledge. 

That the scriptures should have difficulties, then, 
which it requires study to remove, is no more than 



160 STUDY OF THE SCRIPTURES. 

what we might previously expect to find ; and with- 
out question, what we do actually find. It appears 
also that the reason, why these difficulties are per- 
mitted to exist, is to prompt us to industry in our 
endeavours to understand them. But as every 
mode of studying them may not be equally judi- 
cious and profitable, and as we are bound to in- 
quire for the best, it will be the object of this dis- 
course to suggest some principles on the subject, 
which may serve to aid a plain reader of the Bi- 
ble in understanding its contents, and applying them 
to practice. 

I. In the first place, we are to consider, in read- 
ing the Scriptures, that every part of the Bible is 
not of equal importance to every christian; or in 
other words, that though it is profitable, yet that 
some parts are to be studied more than others. 
This proposition requires little proof, and will be 
assented to by every one, who thinks on the sub- 
ject for a moment. The bible contains the records 
of several different dispensations of God to man- 
kind, to the Patriarchs, to the Jews by Moses and 
the prophets, and lastly to all men by his Son 
the Saviour of the world. These all differ from 
each other, according as they were adapted to men 
in different ages, and under different circumstances. 
Each therefore has some things peculiar to itself, 
and some things which are not of universal appli- 
cation. For example, the whole ritual law of 
Moses, we all confess, lost its original obligation on 



STUDY OF THE SCRIPTURES. 



the introduction of Christianity. It was only "a 
schoolmaster" says the Apostle, " to bring us t© 
Christ." All the institutions of Moses, indeed, 
were adapted to a nation under the immediate go- 
vernment of God, and ordained by him to a pecu- 
liar destiny; and many of the principles which 
were to direct their conduct cannot be applied to 
men in our times, under so great a change of cir- 
cumstances. But in the gospel we are to find that 
dispensation of God's will, which was peculiarly 
intended for us. There is to be found the religion 
of christians. There are the principles by which 
we all are at last to be judged. It is there we are 
to look for the great rule of our faith and prac- 
tice. While, therefore, we read the Old Testa- 
ment to learn the history of the doings of God to 
the nations of old; while we always find it fertile 
in instruction and interest, an invaluable and abun- 
dant source of pious thoughts, and consoling and 
elevating contemplation, we are to remember that 
all the maxims of conduct which we collect from 
it, are to be understood and applied with reference 
to that last and perfect revelation, which the Sod 
of God has unfolded. 

II. The New Testament, then, is to be taken as 
the primary rule of the christian's faith and prac- 
tice. But we are led by our text to the following 
very obvious principle of interpretation, which 
ought to be kept steadily in view — that in reading 
the scriptures, we should begin with what is simple 
2J 



162 



STUDY OF THE SCRIPTURES. 



and easy, and afterwards proceed to what is difficult; 
and always explain what is doubtful and dark, by 
what is explicit and clear. This rule appears to 
be almost too plain and too reasonable to need to 
be insisted on ; yet it is one which has been very 
greatly disregarded. From that love of the mar- 
vellous, and passion for what is mysterious and ob- 
scure in religion, which belong to the human con- 
stitution, men are led to reverse this rule, and in- 
stead of explaining what is " hard to be under- 
stood" in the epistles, in conformity to what is 
clear in the gospels, they often distort the plain 
tenor of the gospels into a conformity with their 
doubtful deductions from the epistles. This is a 
spirit, however, against which, as lovers of chris- 
tian truth, we are bound to be on our guard. Our 
everlasting interests are too intimately connected 
with understanding aright the terms of salvation^ 
to allow us to indulge any fancies or predilections 
in our study of the Bible. We ought to begin our 
inquiries with the teachings of our Saviour him- 
self, as they are recorded in the Evangelists ; sit 
like Mary at our Master's feet, and hear his words. 
There we shall undoubtedly find the fundamental 
truths of religion, and find them expressed in the 
plainest language. " I call you friends," says our 
Saviour to his disciples, " for all things, which I 
have heard from my Father, I have made known 
unto you." It is true that he gave them promises 
of farther illumination after his departure, but this 



STUDY OF THE SCRIPTURES. 



163 



must have referred to the dissipation of the Jew- 
ish prejudices which still hung over their minds 
and obstructed their understanding of the truth 
which they had already received, and not to any 
additions to the gospel scheme. For the Apostles 
never imply, that our Saviour himself did not teach 
the whole of the gospel ; and to suppose that his 
teachings did not contain the great essentials of 
the revelation which he came to unfold, is to say, 
either that our Lord was ignorant of these doc- 
trines, or that he designedly withheld them. 
Neither of these conclusions is to be for a moment 
entertained; and therefore, even though we may 
find nothing in the Evangelists to support those 
doubtful disputations on which some choose to in- 
sist, as the very essence of Christianity, we need 
not hesitate to say that no doctrine, which is not 
plainly and clearly taught or implied by our Sa- 
viour himself, and is not to be found in the record 
of his life and doctrines, can have any claim to be 
numbered among the vital principles of Christi- 
anity. 

The reason for the distinction, which exists be- 
tween the gospels and the epistles, as primary 
sources of faith, seems to be very obvious. Our 
Saviour's own instructions were intended equally 
for all mankind in every age. They are conveyed 
in the form best adapted to make them intelligi- 
ble — a history of his life and teachings ; and these 
have every claim to occupy the earliest and prin- 



164 STUDY OF THE SCRIPTURES. 

eipal attention of the disciples of Christ. But the 
epistles were written to particular christian com- 
munities, at Rome, at Corinth, at Philippi, &c, un- 
der circumstances peculiar to that age of the world, 
and the situation of christians, who were then only 
a small and persecuted sect, surrounded by Jewish 
and Pagan enemies. They were frequently written 
in answer to particular questions put by converts 
to an Apostle, and with primary reference to cer- 
tain divisions of opinion which then existed ; some 
of which are now wholly unknown, and others, 
especially that about the abolition of the Mosaic 
law, have long since been settled. Now it is 
very evident that letters written under such cir- 
cumstances will contain some things, which though 
perfectly intelligible to the persons addressed, must 
be " hard to be understood" by persons in a dis- 
tant age, and in a wholly different situation. 

There are other reasons for the obscurity of 
Paul's epistles ; particularly his peculiar character 
as a writer. It is difficult to follow the course of 
a mind so rapid and impassioned through the whole 
of one of his epistles, leaping as he often does 
from conclusion to conclusion, without giving you 
the intermediate ideas by which he arrives at 
them ; sometimes so concise as hardly to permit a 
glimpse of his meaning, and sometimes presenting 
an idea under so many forms as almost to distract 
attention ; intermingling in the same letter, allego- 
ry, metaphor, argument, invective, persuasion, ter- 



STUDY OF THE SCRIPTURES, 



165 



ror, pity, and sarcasm. To follow the stream of 
the thoughts of such a mind, through periods la- 
bouring with involutions, disjointed by parentheses, 
and broken up by digressions, though a very inte- 
resting, is surely not an easy task. It is not with 
such writings as these, that those who have need 
of milk, and not of strong meat, should begin their 
inquiries after christian truth. 

Do not imagine that these observations are to 
lead you to undervalue the epistles. They are in- 
tended merely to remind you that the disciple is 
not above his Lord, and to assert this general prin- 
ciple, that Christianity is to be first best learned 
from Christ himself. They are designed to lead 
you to our Saviour himself, as the original fountain 
of all christian truth. The epistles are undoubt- 
edly to be read with the greatest care and atten- 
tion, and they will richly reward as much of both 
of them as you can give. There is nothing in 
them when fairly understood, which does not per- 
fectly harmonize with the teachings of our Sa- 
viour. The apostles are always to be listened to 
as acquainted by divine illumination with the 
christian system, and when they profess to speak 
from the Lord, and do not, as they sometimes do, 
expressly say that they speak of themselves, they 
are to be reverenced as uttering the word of God. 
The writings of Paul, particularly, will be found 
more interesting the more they are studied. 
There is no writer who will more strongly impress 



166 



STUDY OF THE SCRIPTURES. 



an attentive reader with the belief, that in all he 
says he is giving you the genuine workings of his 
heart, the convictions of his inmost soul. There are 
no writings more indisputably genuine ; and none 
from which you can draw more powerful argu- 
ments for the truth and divinity, the glory and per- 
fection of that religion, of which he was the elo- 
quent and devoted defender. 

III. The principle of interpretation of which 
we have been speaking, that we ought in our study 
of the scriptures to begin with what is simple and 
easy, and afterwards proceed to what is more diffi- 
cult, might be farther illustrated and applied, not 
merely to particular books, but to individual pas- 
sages. But I must hasten to another observation, 
which is, that in order to understand any part of 
the scriptures, we must attend to the subject on 
which the writer is treating, and the connexion in 
which it stands. The necessity of this rule you 
will at once perceive by recollecting how easily 
any one's writing or conversation may be misun- 
derstood, if detached parts of it only are repeated, 
without the explanations and limitations with which 
they were accompanied. A man may be made 
in this way to say exactly the reverse of what he 
really meant, and yet his language may be correct- 
ly quoted. — Or to use another illustration, suppose 
you were to receive a long letter from a person in a 
distant country, on some unknown subject ; and that 
you should begin, before you read it, with dividing 



STUDY OF THE SCRIPTURES. 



167 



it into sixteen nearly equal parts, and then subdi- 
viding these parts into several hundreds of others 
of two or three lines in length. If now each of 
these little fragments should be read as if it con- 
tained a whole and complete meaning in itself, 
without any regard to the general subject of the 
letter, or any attention to the connexion in which 
it stands, could you wonder that the meaning of 
your correspondent should be found with difficulty ? 
Indeed can you think of any method of making a 
writer unintelligible more effectual than this ? Yet 
this is exactly what has been done with every part 
of the sacred writings. This is one reason why 
the followers of every sect are all able to quote 
passages of scripture, which appear to be in favour 
of opinions the most various and discordant. In- 
deed with such a mode of studying the scriptures it 
is only wonderful that the number of sects is so 
small ; for there is no absurdity so great that it 
may not in this way find the appearance of sup- 
port. 

When therefore you find any opinion supported 
by a great number of texts of scripture, you are 
not merely to inquire whether they are actually co- 
pied from the Bible, but whether they have any 
such meaning in their original connexion as that 
which they are brought to support. In this way 
you will often find that writers who boast of the 
formidable array of scripture proofs which they 
bring for their peculiar opinions, and who even 



168 



bTUDY OP THE SCRIPTURE^. 



venture to identify them with the word of God it- 
self, have really no other support for them from 
the Bible, than is given by the mere sound of the 
words which they use. 

This subject well deserves to be more fully il- 
lustrated. I will merely remark that these obser- 
vations are not intended to prove, that we are to 
make no use of the chapters and verses into which, 
of late years, the scriptures have been divided. 
When you are reading merely to make the heart 
better, and to have trains of pious thoughts awak- 
ened, it may often be useful to read only small 
portions of scripture at a time. But when you 
are inquiring for the support which the Bible lends 
to any particular tenets, it is necessary that you 
should read, for instance, the letters of Paul, as 
you would any other epistles. You should read 
all that relates to the same subject at once ; attend- 
ing to the whole design and drift of the writer ; seek- 
ing to find the peculiar circumstances of the church 
to which it was originally addressed, and how far 
they are applicable to ourselves ; remembering that 
every truth is consistent with every other truth. 
In this way, comparing scripture with scripture, 
using the best lights which God has given us, and 
above all asking his blessing on all we do, we need 
not fear that any thing important to salvation will 
remain doubtful or obscure to the humblest under- 
standing. Some things may indeed remain which 
we cannot at present fully apprehend, but to these 



STUDY OF THE SCRIPTURES. 



169 



Ave may apply the direction of the son of Sirach. 
" Seek not out those things which are too hard for 
thee, neither search the things that are above thy 
strength. But what is commanded thee, think 
upon with reverence ; for it is not needful for thee 
to see with thine eyes the things, which are in se- 
cret. Be not curious in unnecessary matters ; for 
more things are showed unto thee than men un- 
derstand." 

I will add but one more observation, which is 
indispensable to be remembered by every one who 
hopes to understand the scriptures, and drink from 
them the sincere milk of the word. It is that you 
must bring to your study of the Bible, a serious, 
impartial, honest mind. This will give you the 
best commentary on every doubtful passage, and 
without it you may wrest the plainest parts of the 
scriptures, as well as the most difficult, to your own 
destruction. We must bring to this study a deep 
conviction of its importance ; a recollection that it 
is for the truth which God himself has revealed, 
that we are inquiring ; and that each of us has a 
personal and eternal interest in this truth. Let us 
not examine religion as a curious theory which has 
no bearing on our own conduct ; but as a system 
of truth by which our lives here are to be govern- 
ed, and our conduct is to be judged hereafter at 
the bar of Christ. Let us not, as we read, inquire 
how this or that passage applies to our neighbour, 
but ask what it teaches to ourselves; what duty 
22 



170 



STUDY OF THE SCRIPTURES. 



does it point out to us, of what sin does it con- 
vince us, against what danger does it warn us, 
what change in our lives does it require of us? 
Let us bring to our inquiries a disposition to sub- 
mit to the teaching and will of God. Let us lay 
aside all previous biasses, all preconceived opinions, 
all favourite prejudices, and inquire not what is 
orthodox, or what is liberal, but w T hat is true. 
Let us come with humble, candid, docile minds 
and with the prayer of David upon our lips; 
" Teach me, O Lord, the way of thy statutes, and I 
shall keep it unto the end. Give me understanding, 
and I shall keep thy law ; yea I shall keep it with 
my whole heart. Make me to go in the path of 
thy commandments, for therein is my desire." 



SERMON XIV 



BOOK OF JOB. 

JOHN, V. 39. 

Search the Scriptures. 

In a recent discourse on the best mode of studying 
the scriptures, one rule was mentioned as of parti- 
cular importance, and some farther illustrations of 
it were promised. The rule related to the neces- 
sity of attending to the subject of the different 
books of scripture, and the connexion in which each 
passage quoted from them stands ; or in other 
words of regarding the general scope and tendency of 
all the sacred writings. The importance of ob- 
serving this rule, in opposition to the common prac- 
tice of considering each of the little fragments or 
verses into which these writings have been broken 
as a distinct and independent aphorism, was illus- 
trated by several considerations. 

In addition to what was then said we now re- 
mark, that if this division had been ever so care- 
fully made, it would still have a tendency to de- 



172 



BOOK OF JOB. 



stroy the connexion and coherence of the various 
parts of the discourses of the sacred writers. But 
in truth it was made with a degree of negligence, 
which en a subject of so much importance is quite 
surprising. It may not be a fact familiar to you 
all — that it is wholly a modern invention ; that in the 
ancient manuscripts of the scriptures the present 
arrangement of chapters and verses was unknown; 
and that it was originally made by the second prin- 
ter who ever published an edition of the New 
Testament, while he was performing a journey. 
The consequence of the negligent manner in which 
this was done is, as might be supposed, that these 
divisions often begin and end at the wrong place ; 
and if they are regarded in studying the scriptures, 
they will often interrupt and misrepresent the 
meaning of the writers. Indeed if the Bible 
should always and only be quoted by these verses, 
there is scarcely any absurdity for which you would 
not find the appearance of support in it. 

It is therefore obviously necessary, if we would 
understand aright the sacred writings, that we 
should inquire after the whole scope and meaning 
of them, and of course for every thing which can 
throw light upon them. This, it is true, is not 
equally necessary for all ; and the humble and 
merely practical christian may read them very 
profitably without engaging in these difficult inqui- 
ries. But if you must form opinions on those sub- 
jects on which christians are divided — and this is 



BOOK OF JOB. 



173 



the right, and, where there is the requisite leisure 
and facilities, the duty of every christian — you 
must qualify yourselves for it by going through the 
requisite researches. 

I propose to give a general idea of the manner 
in which this should be done by selecting a parti- 
cular book, and giving an outline or analysis of its 
contents. I have chosen the Book of Job, as one by 
no means the most difficult, and one on which the 
observations to be made may be brought within a 
small compass. Let us then inquire who was the 
author of this book ; what there is peculiar in the 
manner of its composition ; and what are the ge- 
neral truths, which it is intended to inculcate. 

This book is by some critics supposed to be the 
oldest of the whole canon of the scriptures, and 
is certainly, by the confession of all, of very great 
antiquity. From the length of Job's life, which 
seems to place him in the patriarchal times ; from 
the general air of antiquity which is spread over 
the manners recorded in this poem ; from the fact 
that no piece of history later than the time of 
Moses is mentioned in any part of it ; from the al- 
lusion made by Job to that species of idolatry 
alone, the worship of the sun and moon, Avhich is 
undoubtedly the most ancient ; from certain cus- 
toms referred to of the most remote usage, such as 
the mode of writing by sculpture, and the circum- 
stance of reckoning riches by the number of cat- 
tle ; from these and other particulars, the great 



174 



BOOK OF JOB. 



age of this poem seems to be correctly inferred. 
Its author, it is commonly supposed, was.Moses him- 
self ; though from the circumstance that there is no 
allusion to any part of the Levitical law, it has been 
thought by some to be of even higher antiquity. 
As, however, the scriptures are silent upon this 
subject, it is a point which cannot be decided, and 
is indeed of little moment. 

Like the book of Psalms, all except the narra- 
tive part of this work is written in poetry. It 
abounds with passages of the highest sublimity and 
the truest pathos. It is in the form of a dialogue, 
and the speakers are six in number; Job himself, 
three aged men, his friends, Eliphaz, Bildad and Zo- 
phar, and a young man, also his friend, named Elihu. 
Last of all, the word of the Lord is introduced, as 
deciding the subject on which the conversation has 
turned. This subject appears to be, in general, the 
reason of the permission of suffering and trial un- 
der the government of a God of benevolence ; and 
how far the particular calamities which fall on 
each individual are to be esteemed judgments for 
their sins, and marks of the divine displeasure. 

The narrative of this book is exceedingly sim- 
ple. The principal object held forth to our con- 
templation, is the example of a good man, eminent 
for his piety, and of approved integrity, suddenly 
precipitated from the very summit of prosperity 
into the lowest depths of misery and ruin ; who, 
having first been bereaved of his wealth, his pos- 



BOOK OF JOB. 



175 



sessions, and his children, is afterwards afflicted 
with the anguish of a loathsome disease, which en- 
tirely covers his body. He sustains all, however, 
with the mildest submission and the most complete 
resignation to the will of Providence. " In all 
this," saith the historian, " Job sinned not, nor 
charged God foolishly." 

This is the point of view in the conduct of Job, 
which is held forth as an example ; and not, I con- 
ceive, his subsequent conversations with his friends, 
whose bitter reproaches and unjust suspicions he 
seems scarcely to have sustained with equal firm- 
ness. They came to visit him in his affliction, with 
the avowed purpose of giving him consolation. 
But when the severe calamity of Job extorts from 
him execrations on the hour of his birth, and on 
the kindness, which by rescuing him from the dan- 
gers of infancy and youth, had prevented him 
from being committed to an early grave ; instead of 
seeking to soothe his sorrows, they all unite in 
questioning his integrity, and asserting that the fact 
of his suffering was a sufficient proof of his guilt, 
since God does not inflict such judgments on the 
righteous. These unjust and cruel attacks seem 
to have been too much for the miserable man to 
Support. He in reply enumerates his sufferings, 
and complains bitterly of the inhumanity of his 
friends ; asserts most vehemently the innocence and 
integrity of his life, and seems even to arraign the 
justice of God in confounding the distinction be- 



176 



BOOK OF JOB. 



tween the wicked and the good, by making them 
equally exposed to suffering. His friends severally 
rejoin, till all of them have spoken twice, and one 
of them three times, Job replying to each. 

In this stage of the controversy, Elihu, who had 
hitherto preserved a respectful silence, is introduc- 
ed as speaking. He is represented by the sacred 
historian as displeased both with Job and his three 
aged friends. With Job, because he seemed righ- 
teous in his own eyes, and justified himself rather 
than God, that is, because he defended so vehe- 
mently the justice of his own cause, that he seem- 
ed in some measure to arraign the justice of God ; 
and with his three friends, because, though they 
were unable to answer Job, they ceased not to 
condemn him, that is, they concluded in their own 
minds that he was suffering the consequence of 
some great impiety and wickedness, notwithstand- 
ing they had nothing to oppose to his appeals to 
the uniform innocence and integrity of his life. 
His speech is directed principally to Job. He re- 
proves him for having attributed too much to him- 
self, and doubted of the providence of God, 
because it Was mysterious. He asserts that it is 
not necessary for God to explain and develope his 
counsels to men, and that they ought to be satisfied 
with the belief of his perfect wisdom and good- 
ness. He tells him that when the afflictions of the 
just continue, it is because they do not place a 
proper confidence in God, ask relief at his hands, 



BOOK OP JOB. 



177 



patiently expect it, nor demean themselves before 
him with becoming humility and submission. This, 
he asserts, is at once a sufficient reproof of the 
contumacy of Job, and a full refutation of the un- 
just suspicions of his friends. Lastly, he explains 
the purposes of the Deity in chastening men, 
which are in general to prove and to amend them, 
to repress their arrogance, and call forth the high- 
est virtues of the human character. This consi- 
deration he makes the ground of an eloquent ex- 
hortation to Job to humble himself under the hand 
of his righteous Judge, and adore his almighty 
power and majesty. 

The discussion which forms the subject of this 
book, is at length most solemnly closed by the in- 
troduction of the decision of the Almighty him- 
self. He ratifies the reasonings of Elihu. He 
reminds Job of the weakness and ignorance of man, 
and demands whether he who is so unable to com- 
prehend those works of creation which are obvious 
to every eye, the nature and structure of the 
earth, the sea, the light, the animal kingdom, shall 
presume to arraign the wisdom of the divine go- 
vernment, or comprehend all the purposes of his 
providence. "Hearken unto this, O Job; stand 
still, and consider the wondrous works of God. 
Dost thou know when God disposed them, and 
caused the light of his cloud to shine ? Dost thou 
know the balancings of the clouds, the wondrous 
works of him who is perfect in knowledge ?" 
23 



178 



BOOK OF JOB. 



" Where wast thou when I laid the foundations of 
the earth ? Declare, if thou hast understanding." 
" Whereupon are the foundations thereof fastened, 
or who laid the corner stone thereof ; when the 
morning stars sang together, and all the sons of 
God shouted for joy ?" 

These questions are too weighty for human so- 
lution, and the humbled and astonished Job sinks 
down beneath the rebuke of his Maker, repents 
in dust and ashes, and exclaims, " Behold I am vile ; 
what shall I answer thee ? I will lay mine hand 
upon my mouth." — -His penitence is accepted, and 
his former prosperity restored and augmented. 

This rapid outline or analysis of this most 
striking poem, will, I hope, assist you in form- 
ing a judgment on the principal and leading truths 
which it is meant to inculcate. It remarkably illus- 
trates the importance of the observations with which 
the discourse was introduced, on the necessity of 
attending to the general scope and design of the sa- 
cred writings, and not merely to the apparent sense 
of particular verses or peculiar phrases. It is 
easy to see how unsafe it must be to argue from the 
speeches of either of the friends of Job, except 
Elihu, in support of any doctrine which they may 
appear to countenance, when it is the whole object 
of the book to show that their views of life, and of 
the providence of God, are fundamentally erro- 
neous. Yet you must all have met with in- 
stances, in writers of no mean name, of arguments 



BOOK OP JOB. 



179 



founded on these very passages, as if they were, 
equally with the others, intended to impress the 
same truths. Can it then be wondered at, that 
differences of opinion should exist among christians 
about the meaning of the scriptures, when prin- 
ciples of interpretation, so obvious and indisputa- 
ble, are overlooked or disregarded ? 

That this danger of which we speak, is not an 
imaginary one, it would be easy to give many 
proofs. There is one, which is very remarkable. 
The two passages, which are most frequently and 
confidently relied on to prove the absolute depravity 
of the human heart, are the following, from the fif- 
teenth chapter of this book,fourteenth and sixteenth 
verses. " What is man, that he should be clean? 
and he that is born of a woman, that he should 
be righteous." " How much more abominable and 
filthy is man, who drinketh iniquity like water." — 
Now it is not my present object to inquire how far 
this doctrine is true. He knows nothing of him- 
self, who does not feel his liability to sin, and who 
is not aware of the lustings of the flesh against the 
spirit, and of the senses against the better dictates 
of the mind. But this conviction of our tendencies 
to sin is a very different thing from the belief 
that the soul comes from the hand of God steeped 
in guilt and sin, " rotten," as some love to speak, 
" to the very core ;" that the infant who smiles in 
your face, one of those whom our Saviour himself 
took as the emblem of innocence and docility, has 



180 



BOOK OF JOB. 



yet the heart of a demon, and only wants the 
power to do the work of a demon. This doctrine 
of innate and total depravity, though doubtless 
many are led to think they believe in it from very 
pure motives, I do not scruple to say, appears to 
me a libel on human nature, and on the Author of 
human nature ; it appears to me to be completely 
destructive of the responsibility of man, and to 
render the condition of the brutes that perish a 
more enviable one than his. The proofs however 
which are brought to sustain it, it would be fo- 
reign to my present purpose to examine. I would 
only remark how wholly unjustifiable it is to quote 
the two passages which I have mentioned — and 
they are always put at the head of the list of its 
proofs — as lending any support to it. They are 
part of the speech of Eliphaz the Temanite, to 
whom the Lord says at the close of the book, 
"My wrath is kindled against thee, and against thy 
two friends; for ye have not spoken of me the 
thing that is right" It is clear that a cause must 
be desperate, which resorts to such arguments as 
these. 

I cannot dismiss this subject without a few prac- 
tical remarks. The first general impression, which 
the study of this sublime book will have on a de- 
vout and serious mind, will be, that those conclu- 
sions are unjustifiable, which refer every instance 
of calamity which falls on our neighbour, to the 
judgment of God for his sins. There has been a 



BOOK OF JOB. 



181 



disposition among mankind in all ages, to form such 
conclusions with regard to the course of Providence, 
The age is not very remote from our own, when 
it was part of the established law of almost every 
country,t hat appeals should be made to the imme- 
diate judgments of Providence for the proof of in- 
nocence or guilt ; and the magistrate looked on at 
such trials with the expectation of seeing the in- 
nocent man tread unhurt on the burning iron. This 
disposition is even now not wholly extinguished; 
and there are some who, like the friends of Job, 
do not fear to erect themselves into interpreters 
of God's will, and judges of the secret merit or 
guilt of his creatures. It is a disposition of very 
mischievous consequences. It is more than once 
expressly reproved by our Saviour himself. It not 
only nourishes in ourselves a spirit of arrogance 
and persecution, but tends to shake in the minds of 
others the belief of any superintending Providence 
whatever. 

The other sentiment which the perusal of the 
book of Job will inculcate, is that of perfect sub- 
mission to the will and government of God, however 
mysterious they may sometimes appear to us. It is 
one great object of this production to show that 
the nature and particular reasons of the divine 
counsels in the dispensations of happiness and mise- 
ry in this life, are placed by the necessary limits 
of human knowledge beyond our comprehension. 
As far as our observation extends, there is nothing 
in nature, which tends originally and finally to evil. 



182 BOOK OP JOB. 

What reason then is there to doubt that the same 
benevolence would always be visible, if our views 
were more extensive ? Is it for feeble and erring 
man to judge of the ways of Him, who is perfect in 
wisdom ? Shall the dim eye of a creature so poor 
and weak be turned with reproach, or shall its 
feeble voice be raised in murmurs, against its 
Creator, because it is unable to comprehend what 
Omnipotence alone can fully embrace ? Shall an 
insect so small as to be scarcely visible in the vast 
Temple of Nature, presume to judge of the har- 
mony of its proportions, and arraign the great 
Architect because it imagines it here discovers a 
blemish or there an irregularity? — My friends, let us 
learn a lesson from the history of Job. Let us be 
reminded of our ignorance and insignificance, our 
feebleness and dependence, and we shall blush to 
remember our arrogance. We shall sink down in 
silence, humility and submission, at the footstool of 
his throne. The ways of God are not our ways, 
nor his thoughts our thoughts. 

There are many other respects in which we 
shall find the intelligent study of this book profi- 
table for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for 
instruction in righteousness. Let us then learn 
like the Psalmist, to meditate on the precepts that 
have respect unto the ways of the Lord, to de- 
light in his statutes, and not to forget his word ; 
and with him to pray, that God would open our 
eyes, that we may see wondrous things out of his 
law. 



SERMON XVI 



SOURCES OF SIN. 
1 CORINTHIANS, X. 12. 

Let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he 

fall 

This precept of the Apostle evidently takes it for 
granted that there are constant, deep, and power- 
ful tendencies to sin in the human constitution. It 
is addressed to us all, my friends. So far from con- 
sidering any one as so safe, that watchfulness is no 
longer necessary, it is implied that he who thinks 
himself the least in danger is the most eminently in- 
secure. Since then we are encompassed with 
temptations, and our frailty exposes us continually 
to their power, it is alike our duty and our wisdom 
to examine with care the nature and the sources of 
our danger. We should often look within and 
without us, and inquire where it is that seduction 
lurks in ambush for us, and where it is that the 
safeguards of our virtue are weak and unsound. 
" Watch and pray," saith our Lord, " lest ye enter 



184 



SOURCES OF SIN. 



into temptation. What I say unto you, I say unto 
a ll_ wa tch." 

It is very important, however, that our convic- 
tion of the sins and dangers to which we are ex- 
posed should be something definite and distinct. It 
should be something much more than the vague 
and general impression with which some men con- 
tent themselves that " nobody is perfect," " the 
best men have their weak sides," " every one has 
his fault." Neither on the other hand is it enough 
that we are willing to talk gravely of " the de- 
pravity of the human heart," " the vileness of our 
corrupt nature," " its rottenness to the very core." 
Notwithstanding the lofty claims to humility, 
which are made by some of those who use this 
language, it is still very possible to deceive our- 
selves by the use of it. It is very possible, that 
all these phrases may be very regularly and con- 
stantly repeated, without any proper sense, any 
practical conviction, of the real propensities to sin, 
which exist in our nature. In truth, I believe that 
it not unfrequently happens with many who are 
most fond of speaking in general of the utter cor- 
ruption of their nature, that they are not found to 
be more willing than others to be suspected of a 
tendency to any particular sin. 

But on such a subject as this, the language of 
extenuation or exaggeration is equally misplaced. 
We ought all to wish to know the truth, the exact 
truth. It can be no man's real interest in this life 



SOURCES OF SL\. 18f> 

to deceive himself or others ; and in a future one, 
how fatal will he find a voluntary and cherished 
delusion to have been ! Let us then, my brethren, 
look honestly and faithfully into our own hearts. 
Let us study the true tendencies of our constitu- 
tion. Let us seek to find in what our danger really 
consists. 

You have often been invited in other discourses 
to consider the nature and dangers of particular 
sins. In the present discourse it is my wish to take 
a view of the principal sources of evil that are 
found in the human constitution. We may learn 
from it a salutary lesson of caution and humility. 
At the same time I shall consider it my duty to 
endeavour to show that the guilt of each of our 
sins is all our own ; and that there is no part of our 
nature, as it proceeds originally from the hands of 
our Maker, which is unworthy of its divine Author. 
God made man upright ; but they have sought out 
many inventions. 

The first source of sin to which our attention is 
naturally directed, is that which arises from the 
part of our nature which Ave share in common with 
other animals. We are prompted to transgression 
by our appetites. It is not that they are not useful, 
necessary, and perfectly innocent in their original 
purposes ; but if we neglect or abuse them, a pow- 
erful tendency is produced in them to excess and 
disorder. In the lower creation the cravings of 
appetite are regulated by instinct, and the desire of 
24 



186 



SOURCES OF SIN. 



gratification dies when the real wants of nature are 
satisfied. It is otherwise with man. He is en- 
trusted — and it is a noble charge — with the care 
of his own happiness, with the task of self-govern- 
ment. The precise limit of gratification, therefore, 
is not marked for him by instinct; it is left to be 
discovered, and to be fixed, by himself. Originally 
to find and to keep this limit is not difficult. Our 
nature, in this respect, as it comes from the hands 
of its Maker, is not found with any strong and in- 
vincible bias to transgression. Our appetites ac- 
quire their dangerous power only by neglect and 
voluntary and unnatural indulgence, and then in- 
deed they become a prolific and fatal source of 
sin. There is a degree of pleasure annexed to the 
gratification of them — a pleasure bountifully given, 
and capable of being innocently used. But when 
this pleasure is pursued extravagantly, when it is 
made an end of our being, we suffer the penalty 
of violating the laws of virtue. Disorder is intro- 
duced into our system. A habit of yielding to their 
power converts them from the useful servants of 
man, into the lawless tyrants of his soul. A love 
of strong sensation becomes at last the primary 
pursuit, the ruling desire of our nature, and bears 
down all nobler, purer, and holier aspirings of the 
soul. Whether it displays itself in a life of disso- 
lute luxury, of brutal intemperance, or degrading 
voluptuousness, it is fatal to all our best hopes of 
happiness, here and hereafter. It produces that 



SOURCES OF SIN. 



carnal mind, which is death ; that sensual disposi- 
tion, which is enmity to God. So terrible a source 
of evil may that part of our nature become, through 
our neglect, which Avas given us by our Creator for 
purposes the most beneficial and wise. 

Our animal nature is found to be a source of sin 
in another way. It is a powerful obstacle to good, 
as well as a direct source of transgression. The 
objects of sense are continually soliciting our atten- 
tion, and laying hold on our affections. From our 
earliest infancy we are surrounded by, and as it 
were, immersed in them. They present them- 
selves spontaneously to our view, and with a de- 
gree of vividness and force, which gives an air of 
unreality to those things which are visible only to 
the eye of the mind. Hence we are in such con- 
stant danger of having our thoughts centre on 
the objects of this world. The pure and intellec- 
tual truths of religion are perpetually liable to be 
shut out from the mind, by the overwhelming influ- 
ence of the objects which the senses press upon our 
attention. The senses weigh down the spirit. It 
is hard for the mind to withdraw within itself, to 
shut out the objects of sense, to disengage itself 
from the body, and to hold a sacred and undisturb- 
ed communion with the unseen world. This is the 
reason why to think on God, and Christ, and the 
eternal world, is so difficult ; and why it is so much 
harder still to fix our affections on them, to make 
them the supreme objects of regard. This is the 



188 



SOURCES OF Stt. 



reason why we so naturally give our hearts to the 
fleeting objects of sense, and are so untouched by 
the resplendent glories, the boundless bliss, of hea- 
ven and futurity. It is in this view that the Apos- 
tle declares, " I know that in me dwelleth no good 
thing." There is nothing in my animal nature, 
which is virtuous, or which can take the stamp of 
virtue. Nay more ; " The flesh lusteth against 
the Spirit." " There is a law in my members war- 
ring against the law of my mind, so that when I 
would do good, evil is present with me." 

It is not the purpose of this discourse to in- 
quire into the powers of counteracting this indis- 
position to spiritual contemplation and spiritual af- 
fection. It would be easy to show that they exist, 
and are adequate, by God's grace, to their objects. 
But my wish is simply to unfold the sources of 
those sins which we see exist, and point out the 
nature and operation of those causes which lead us 
to evil. It is the dangers of our state which I would 
now point out, and it may be my grateful task 
hereafter to invite your thankfulness for those 
means of avoiding them with which we are sup- 
plied. 

We see then, that from the body- — from that 
part of our nature which we have in common with 
the lower animals — our liability to many of the 
most degrading sins proceeds. We trace to its in- 
fluence, primarily and chiefly, the sins of gluttony, 
of intemperance in all its forms, of the grosser 



SOURCES OF SIN. 



189 



kinds of luxury, and in general of the long and dark 
list of sensual sins, together with very much of that 
indisposition and reluctance to the contemplation of 
what is spiritual and pure, of which we are all so 
conscious. Let us now proceed to consider those 
sources of sin, which are found in the mind — in that 
part of our nature, which distinguishes us from the 
lower creation. 

Those active principles of our nature, which 
have their origin in the mind, have been variously 
named and classed. I am little studious of a philo- 
sophical accuracy, being desirous only to refer you 
in as plain a manner as I can, and only so far as the 
subject requires it, to the chief facts and laws of 
our moral constitution. The arrangement, which 
seems best fitted for this end, is that which distri- 
butes these active principles into Desires and Af- 
fections^ and gives to either, when they pass the 
limits of moderation, the name of Passions. 

The principal desires which seem originally to 
belong to our nature, are the desire of knowledge. 
or the principle of curiosity — the desire of esteem — 
the desire of power, or the principle of ambition — 
the desire of superiority, or the principle of emula- 
tion — 'the desire of society, or the social principle — 
the desire of well-being, or the selfish principle. 

Before speaking of these desires as sources of 
sin, it is right to remind you of their importance to 
the perfection of our nature, as the means of being 
and doing good. We may learn their value by con- 



190 



SOURCES OF SIN. 



sidering what we should be without them. How 
innocent and laudable then, in itself, is the principle 
of curiosity ; and what would man be, if no trace 
of it existed in his breast, and he were prompted 
to attain knowledge only by a perception of the 
actual wants and necessities of nature ? What could 
supply, in infancy and youth particularly, the place 
of a principle, always strongest in the most capa- 
cious minds, which urges them on to perpetually 
new acquisitions? Curiosity is to the mind, exactly 
what hunger is to the body, and how wholly inade- 
quate would be the force of mere reason, if either 
of them depended for its supplies only on its slow 
and uncertain deductions ? 

Nor could the desire of esteem be more safely 
spared. Nothing surely can be more innocent and 
useful in its nature, than a desire of the regard of 
our fellow men. We see the dawnings of this 
principle in the earliest infancy ; and the child is 
sensibly mortified by any expression of neglect or 
contempt, even before it acquires the use of 
speech. Its influence is at all times more striking, 
perhaps, than that of any other active principle 
whatever. Even the love of life daily gives way 
to the desire of esteem; and of esteem too, which, 
as it is only to affect our memory, cannot be sup- 
posed to interest our self-love. Suppose now this 
powerful principle struck out of our nature. Sup- 
pose we had no desire of each other's esteem, and 
were profoundly indifferent to the opinions of all 



SOURCES OF SIN. 



191 



mankind concerning us. Is it not evident, not only 
that an incentive which enters so largely into the 
motive for the most meritorious toils and noblest 
sacrifices, would be lost, but that there would go 
with it, one of the most powerful instruments of 
social order and gentleness, one of the most saluta- 
ry restraints on the rash excesses of human depra- 
vity, and one of the most effectual safeguards even 
of the existence of society. 

The desire of power or the principle of ambi- 
tion, and the desire of superiority or the principle 
of emulation, will perhaps be thought to be of a 
more equivocal worth. In their nature, however, 
there is certainly nothing which is necessarily bad. 
The mere pleasure and exultation, which the con- 
sciousness of possessing power imparts, is innocent 
in itself, and may be highly beneficial. So too the 
mere desire of superiority is not illaudable in its na- 
ture ; and it is surely possible to conceive, that em- 
ulation may take place between men, who are unit- 
ed by the most cordial friendship, without a single 
sentiment of ill-will disturbing their harmony. The 
value of both these principles as springs of human 
improvement will be confessed. We see at once, 
that if neither ambition nor emulation existed, the 
most beneficial energies of man would be struck 
with a fatal palsy, and the world would remain for 
ever at one dead and dreary level of hopeless me- 
diocrity. 

The inestimable value and perfect innocence of 



192 



SOURCES OF SliV. 



the desire of society, need no commentary or proof. 
We can scarcely conceive that the system of life 
should go on without it ; or if it could go on with- 
out any union of effort, of council, or affection, still 
man, the solitary savage, would at best only draw 
out a few years of a forlorn and miserable exis- 
tence. 

In fine, even the selfish principle, the desire of 
personal well-being, which we all feel so strongly, 
how could this be spared from our constitution, 
without utter ruin ? What is there bad in a ration- 
al regard to our own welfare ? And what sort of a 
being would he be, if he could exist at all, who had 
no degree of love for himself? What shallow me- 
taphysicians then are those, who instead of aiming 
to regulate self-love, as a principle useful and inno- 
cent in itself, denounce every degree of it as sin, 
and would vainly seek to extirpate a sentiment, 
which is necessarily interwoven with the existence 
of every intelligent being. 

Thus much of the innocence and usefulness 
of our desires, as they are originally implanted 
in our constitution. Let me now endeavour to 
show in what way they become sources of sin. 
They are, we must remember, blind and undis- 
cerning ; they are simply direct tendencies towards 
particular objects, without distinction of the means 
by which they are to be obtained. They do not 
possess, therefore, any more than the appetites of 
the body? an instinctive power of self-guidance and 



SOURCES OP SIN. 



193 



self-control. That is left to be the task of man 
himself. They have, too, when indulged without 
caution and foresight, a tendency to increase, to 
gather strength, and finally to rush into excess and 
extravagance. In a word, these desires, if habi- 
tually cherished, gratified and indulged, without 
watchfulness and care, are converted into passions, 
and become the guilty instruments of sin. 

But it is not by their own excesses alone that 
the desires become the sources of transgression. 
It is found that when habitually indulged, they 
combine together, and become the parents of new 
and artificial desires. The love of money, for ex- 
ample, is no original part of our nature. It is pro- 
duced by the compounded influence of the desire 
of esteem, of power, of superiority, and of per- 
sonal well-being, associating and confounding the 
means of happiness with happiness itself. It is 
thus by making the means and instruments of good 
the primary objects of pursuit, that they become the 
primary objects of affection ; and though all inno- 
cent in themselves, and all originally capable of 
being completely gratified by innocent objects, do 
yet enkindle within the soul sentiments which nature 
never planted there — the horrible sentiments of 
pride, envy, jealousy and malignity. 

The process by which these artificial desires 
and passions are engendered, cannot now be de- 
tailed ; nor can it be attempted here to recount 
the modes in which they join the original principles 
25 



194 



SOURCES OF SIN. 



of our nature, in producing those vices which dark- 
en and dishonour the history of our species. The 
time would fail me, or 1 might else attempt to 
show the effects of the extravagance and madness 
of unbridled desires. I might show how even the 
desire of knowledge, though in itself so innocent 
and useful, may occupy the breast too exclusively 
and become the active minister of evil as well as 
of good. I might show how the love of esteem 
first degenerates into a passion for admiration, de- 
stroys the mind's independency, and leads at length 
to the sacrifice of conscience and principle, to gain 
the vain tribute of the world's applause. I might 
show how the desire of power and the love of 
superiority, when fostered and indulged, swell the 
bosom with arrogance and pride, torture it with 
envy, and convulse it with jealousy, lead men to 
trample on the rights of others, and to commit 
deeds of atrocity, at which the world gazes with 
horror and fear. I might show, too, how the so- 
cial principle may be abused ; and in speaking of 
the effects of sympathy and imitation, when left 
undirected, might point out to you the inlet of 
floods of corruption among men. It is but to 
name the selfish principle, to remind every one of 
the most prolific nurse of injustice, and almost eve- 
ry species of crime. 

So terrible are the effects of applying a constant 
stimulus even to our most natural desires, and 
placing no restraint on their wanderings, till they 



SOURCES OF SIN. 



195 



rush into excesses, which we have no longer power 
to control. By permitting any one ot them long 
to riot in the breast, it becomes at last the master 
passion of the soul, and makes all the others tri- 
butary to its lusts. Then, it is, that we see how 
truly it was said, that " he that hath no rule over 
his own spirit, is like a city that is broken down and 
without walls." His mind is in ruins — desolate of 
all that is good ; and all that was originally re- 
gular and fair is defaced and marred. It resembles 
the once proud and flourishing Babylon, now fallen 
in the dust. " Wild beasts of the desert lie there ; 
its houses are full of doleful creatures ; and owls 
dwell there, and satyrs dance there, and the wild 
beasts of the islands cry in its desolate houses, and 
dragons in its pleasant palaces." — " Let him that 
thinketh he standeth, take heed, lest he fall !" 



SERMON XVII 



SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED. 
1 CORINTHIANS, X. 12. 

Let him that thinketh he standeth, take heed, lest he 

fall. 

In pursuing our inquiry into the sources of sin in 
human nature, having considered the appetites, the 
senses, and the various desires, whether original or 
artificial, we are next led to the examination of 
our affections, as the instruments of transgression. 
They are usually divided into benevolent and male- 
volent, according as their object is the communica- 
tion of enjoyment or of suffering to any of our 
fellow creatures. 

To prove that our benevolent affections are na- 
turally innocent and worthy of their divine original, 
little need be said. Who will require any il- 
lustrations of the purity or value of the pa- 
rental and filial affections; of the affections of 
kindred, love, friendship, patriotism, gratitude, 
or pity ? Yet pure and celestial as are these 
sentiments, the general law of our being ex- 



SOURCES OF SIN. 



19? 



tends also to them. They need, as well as our 
other active principles, to be put under the gui- 
dance of reason and conscience, or else they tend 
to excess, interfere with the exercise of other 
parts of our nature, degenerate into weakness, and 
may at last become the parents of crime. To 
them, more perhaps than to any other parts of our 
nature, the precept of the Apostle applies ; since 
they are so lovely and innocent in themselves, that 
our vigilance is less apt to be extended to them. 

Of the malevolent affections, resentment, revenge 
and hatred, I believe the first alone to be native 
in our breast, and that that was implanted original- 
ly for useful and even necessary ends. There is 
a species of resentment, which seems merely in- 
stinctive, and which operates in man exactly as in 
the lower animals. It was plainly intended to 
guard us against sudden violence on occasions when 
reason would come too late to our assistance ; and 
it always subsides as soon as we are satisfied that 
no injury was intended. There is another species 
of resentment, which is excited only by intentional 
injury, by apparent wrong and injustice, and which is 
evidently connected with a sense of virtue and vice, 
of moral good and evil. The indignation raised 
by the sight of cruelty and injustice, whether ex- 
ercised towards ourselves or others, and the desire 
of having it punished, has nothing of the nature of 
malice. It is not only an innocent, but a generous 
movement of the mind. It is resentment against 



198 



SOURCES OF SIN. 



vice and wickedness. It is one of the common 
bonds by which society is held together ; a feel- 
ing which each individual has in behalf of the 
whole species, as well as himself. The end for 
which it is implanted in our nature is to protect us 
from, and to remedy, injustice and cruelty ; nor 
could we be without it, without a loss to the per- 
fection of that nature. 

This principle, however, as well as every other 
in our nature, is susceptible of abuse, of deep and 
dreadful abuse. In some persons, the instinct of 
resentment, by being habitually cherished and in- 
dulged, becomes a passion which differs from in- 
sanity only in its duration. Others, in exercising a 
deliberate resentment, either direct it against ima- 
gined or exaggerated injuries, or suffer it to swell 
immoderately against such as are real, or cherish 
it when unavailing, or are led by it to inflict pain, 
not for the purposes of reparation, but for the 
mere sake of producing misery. In this way, re- 
sentment degenerates into the dreadful passions of 
revenge, malice, and unforgiving hatred; and the 
image of God is changed into a resemblance of the 
character of a demon. " Let him that thinketh 
he standeth, take heed, lest he fall." 

In the view which I have thus given of the va- 
rious malignant passions, representing them as aris- 
ing, not from our nature as it was formed by God, 
but from our own abuse of it, I am warranted by 
many proofs both from scripture and reason, which 



SOURCES OF SIN. 



199 



the time does not permit me to exhibit. When 
we see our Saviour place a little child in the midst 
of his disciples, and tell them, that unless they re- 
semble it they cannot hope for heaven; when we 
recall his never to be forgotten words, " Suffer lit- 
tle children to come unto me and forbid them not, 
for of such is the kingdom;" when we hear the 
Apostle Paul comuianding his converts to have no 
malice, no more malice than a child ; we are 
tempted to wonder by what strange perversity any 
christian should have ever been led to imagine that 
the breast of a child originally encloses a single 
guilty passion. With the sacred authority of Je- 
sus our Lord, and of his faithful servant Paul, I 
need not fear to say that there is naturally no such 
thing in the human heart as ill-will towards our 
fellow men. There is no such thing as a love of 
injustice, oppression, treachery, ingratitude, cruelty 
or revenge for their own sakes. We have, indeed, 
desires after various external goods. We cherish 
them ; we permit them to gain strength ; till at 
length they become so powerful that w 7 e disregard 
the criminality of the means by which they are at- 
tained. But these bad means are never the original 
objects of our desire ; and we all have an original 
repugnancy, and not a propensity to use them. It 
is a very old observation, and true as it is old, that 
every man, however abandoned, would prefer to 
obtain the objects of his desire by innocent means, 
if they were as easy and effectual as those which 



200 



SOURCES OF SIN. 



he employs. What more, indeed, is necessary to 
settle the question as to what feelings are conge- 
nial to our nature, than to consider that the temper 
of envy, rage, hatred and malice, is in itself pure 
misery. While on the other hand, the temper of 
compassion, forgiveness, and kindness, is in itself 
delightful, shedding calmness and peace over the 
soul, and thus proclaiming that it is designed by 
our Maker as the natural inmate of the human 
heart. 

There are other active principles of our con- 
stitution, innocent and useful in themselves, but 
capable of becoming the sources of sin. I must 
content myself with very briefly recalling some 
of them to your recollection. There is a re- 
markable propensity of our nature, which has 
hardly gained a name among moralists, but which 
yet is very powerful in its operations. It has been 
sometimes denominated a love of excitement. There 
is something pleasing, we find, in the bare exercise 
of all our affections, excepting always and only the 
malevolent ones. We have a satisfaction in being 
roused to the exertion of any of our faculties. 
We take a delight simply in being moved. When 
we have neither hope nor fear, nor desire, nor pro- 
ject, nor employment of body or mind, instead 
of being happy, we are the most miserable of men. 
We are tempted to envy the sailor wrestling with 
the storm, or the soldier mounting the breach. 
This love of excitement is the origin of that exit- 



SOURCES OF SIN. 



201 



berant animation which we call love of mischief in 
children, and which, however inconvenient, nobody 
thinks of referring to settled perversity. It is this 
pleasure in the exercise of our faculties also, which 
accounts for that singular fondness for scenes of 
danger, which some men seem to feel, and which 
indeed is felt by us all in a degree, when the dan- 
ger is not excessive. It accounts too for the plea- 
sure which we take in fictitious distress, and is the 
solution of the delight which we feel, when our 
tears are flowing for imaginary sorrows. This part of 
our nature has its uses as a spring of activity and 
exertion; and it has its dangers also. There is 
need of a similar caution in applying stimulus to 
the mind and heart, as to the body. Excess in 
either case will produce an unnatural excitement, 
and lead often to extravagance, folly and sin. 

There is an antagonist principle to the love of 
excitement, which is found in the love of ease. The 
abuse of this propensity is the source of all the 
sins and miseries occasioned by indolence and sloth ; 
and these are so great, that we might be tempted 
to think that our nature would have been more 
perfect without this tendency. But we ought to 
consider, that if we found no pleasure in repose, 
we should wear out and exhaust our systems by 
perpetual and excessive toil. And who can pre- 
dict the increase of the crimes and woes of man, 
if all were urged on by a constant impulse to ex^ 
ertion : if there were nothing grateful in the quiet 
26 



202 



SOURCES OF SIN. 



of contemplation, and the calm of inaction; and 
all the passions and all the faculties of the human 
mind were trained up to constant and immitigable 
activity. 

There are sources of sin, also, to be found in the 
exercise of all our intellectual faculties. We may 
abuse the noble powers of imagination, memory, 
and reason itself. The regulation of our thoughts is 
one of the first and highest tasks of virtue, and the 
neglect of it is the primary source of all trans- 
gression. The law of association, by which we 
explain the phenomena of habit, may, as it is 
watched over, or neglected, establish the founda- 
tion of our virtues, or rivet the chains of our 
vices. 

In short, my brethren, there is nothing in our 
nature, animal or intellectual, however useful and 
indispensable, however fitted and designed origi- 
nally for good, but what by our neglect and abuse 
of it, may be converted into evil. There is a ne- 
cessity imposed on us for perpetual vigilance. 
Whether we eat or drink, whether we think or 
feel, or de-i whether we are in motion or at rest, 
whether engaged in exertion or contemplation, it 
is necessary that reason and conscience should not 
sleep, that watch* °ss and prayer should not 
cease ; and when we think that we stand most 
safely, let us most carefully take heed lest we fall. 

This very hasty and imperfect survey of some 
©f those principal facts and laws in our moral con- 



sources of snr. 



203 



^titution from which the sources of sin arise, may 
lead us to some general conclusions. 

It would have appeared clearly, if I had been 
able to do justice to so extensive and difficult a 
subject, that there is no active principle of our na- 
ture, which is originally bad or vicious in itself ; 
not one, which we could lose without losing with it 
a capacity for virtue, as well as a source of sin ; 
not one which is not implanted for a benefi- 
cent end ; not one, which if its true end is regard- 
ed, will not lead us primarily and directly to what 
is right, and only secondarily, and by its excess or 
abuse, to what is wrong. Our propensities are all 
originally directed towards good ends, and it is our 
own fault if we seek those ends by criminal means. 

On the other hand, it is equally clear, that in 
some of the parts of our nature there is a tenden- 
cy, and in all a liability, to alteration and change, 
to infirmity and decay, to extravagance and excess. 
There is not one faculty we possess, that is not 
capable of being converted to an instrument of 
sin; not one, over which it is not necessary for us 
to place a constant guard. 

Our moral nature may be compared to a ma- 
chine composed of many parts, not one of which 
is not useful, not one indeed, which is not indispen- 
sable. Still it is evident, that however useful eve- 
ry part of such a machine may originally be, if 
any one is suffered to be out of order, is cither too 
feeble or too powerful in its action, or is in any 
way, or in any degree deranged, the whole system 



204 



SOURCES OF SIN. 



must be in that same degree disturbed. In order 
that the operation of this machine should be per- 
fect, it is necessary that all the parts should be 
kept in order, each occupying its proper place, 
each with its due proportion of power; and that 
the mutual relation, the perfect balance, the har- 
monious adjustment of all its parts, should be al- 
ways preserved. 

This comparison would, I think, approach in some 
respects to a description of human nature in its 
actual state, if we should suppose this machine to 
resemble a clock, which however excellent in all 
its parts, is continually tending to run down, re- 
quires a stated superintendence and watchfulness*, 
and if long neglected will infallibly be deranged. 

It is implied in this view of human nature, that 
its perfection would consist, not in extirpating or 
changing a single faculty, desire, affection, passion, 
or original tendency of our constitution, but in di- 
recting them to their proper objects, in restraining 
them within their proper limits, preserving their 
due balance, and keeping them all in proper sub- 
ordination to the supreme authority of conscience. 

It is implied also in Avhat has been said, that to 
do all this is an effort, a great, a perpetual effort, in 
which we need all the strength that God has given 
us, and the gracious aids of his Holy Spirit. To say, 
however, of our nature in this way, that virtue is 
to us an effort, and vice a propensity, is saying no 
more, after all, than that there is an analogy in all 
the works of God. What good of any kind is 



SOURCES OF SIN. 



there in this world, which does not cost us toil, or 
which may not be corrupted or forfeited by neglect 
or abuse ? Will the fields yield their fruit, if they 
are not tilled with unceasing care? Or will not 
thorns and thistles spring up, if they are left with- 
out cultivation, and spring up the faster and rank- 
er, the richer and better the soil ? Why then 
should we expect that it should be otherwise with 
the goods of the mind ? Why should we suppose 
that we should be made virtuous by a miracle, any 
more than that we should be made wise by one ? 
Or why should we expect that for the soul, which 
Ave acknowledge it would be madness to expect for 
the body? No: it is decreed that all which we 
enjoy and possess in life should be an acquisition, 
and not an inheritance. If you ask why this is not 
otherwise? I answer, you will know, when you 
are admitted to penetrate the counsels of omni- 
scient and inscrutable wisdom. 

The observations which have been hazarded on 
the moral nature of man, are intended, 1 hope, for 
a far more serious purpose than the gratification of 
curiosity. I think them of great practical moment 
as they respect our views of the character of God, 
and as they tend to point out to us the true grounds 
of christian humility and repentance. 

There is no mere opinion ever seriously enter- 
tained by a sensible man, which seems to me so 
unscriptural, so revolting, so dangerous if pursued 
to its practical consequences, as that which makes 



206 



SOURCES OF SIN. 



the Deity the author of sin. I know that there 
have been good men, who have reconciled their 
minds to it. There is nothing to which a man, 
who is thoroughly a metaphysician, may not recon- 
cile himself. While, too, the sentiment is wrapt 
up in mysterious talk about the decrees of God, 
and encompassed with subtle but slender distinc- 
tions between moral and physical necessity, it may 
be saved from being very mischievous by being 
very unintelligible. But as a principle to be un- 
derstood and disseminated among people in the or- 
dinary state of their minds, I can imagine nothing 
more effectual to prostrate all just ideas of the di- 
vine character, and destroy all motives to virtuous 
effort. I have deemed it important, therefore, to 
show as distinctly as I could, by an examination of 
all the leading facts and laws of our moral consti- 
tution, that our nature, as it comes from the hand 
of God, is worthy of its Maker, and that we alone 
are responsible for our sins. If we believe our 
nature to be bad in itself, let us explain it how we 
will, it is impossible not to feel that He who made 
it so is answerable for its defects. " But we ought 
to be cautious," says the admirable Bishop Butler, 
" we ought to be cautious how we charge God 
foolishly. We ought to take care how we ascribe 
that to Him, or to the nature he has given us, 
which is owing wholly to our own abuse of that 
nature. Men may speak of the degeneracy and 
corruption of the world, according to the experi- 



SOURCES OF SIN. 207 

ence they have had of it. But human nature, con- 
sidered as the divine workmanship, should, me- 
thinks, be treated as sacred ; for in the image of 
God made he man." 

The views which have been offered appear im- 
portant, not only as it respects our ideas of the di- 
vine character, but as it regards the practice of 
true repentance. When I am called on to repent 
of my sinful nature ; to repent of being born a sin- 
ner ; to repent of not having a better nature than 
it has pleased God to give me ; this language is, I 
confess, wholly unintelligible to me. The thing is 
utterly impossible. I may be sorry, indeed, that 
my Maker was not more kind to me ; I may la- 
ment the original vileness of my heart, as I may 
lament an unfortunate tincture of my skin, or any 
natural deformity of my body. But to be sorry 
for any defect of my nature as if it were my fault, 
this is a sentiment which it is impossible that any 
rational being should ever feel. I have reason to 
think that many persons have suffered the most ex- 
quisite anguish from finding their inability to repent 
of guilt, which as it was not their own, it was out of 
their power to avoid. But no. It is my own sins 
alone which can fill me with remorse; it is my ac- 
tual negligences and violations of duty wl ich cover 
me with shame; it is my personal faults for which 
alone I am responsible. For these, the tears of 
contrition ought to flow. Would to God that they 
might flow with that godly sorrow which leads to 
repentance not to be repented of! 



208 



SOURCES OF SIN. 



These are the views of the real nature and 
sources of sin in the human constitution, which I 
have formed from the best study I could give of 
the scriptures, and from the best observation 1 
have been able to make of the actual state of 
man. They are consistent, — indeed I am persuad- 
ed they are the only views which are truly consis- 
tent with the deepest and most affecting views of 
our unworthiness and guilt in the sight of God. 
When we believe that every single faculty of our 
nature is capable of perversion and abuse, and are 
conscious that in many respects we actually pervert 
and abuse them daily, and in all come short of the 
glory of God ; surely we have here a ground for 
the profoundest, sincerest, humblest penitence, 
which the heart can ever feel. 

There are two impressions which I could wish 
that these discourses should leave on your minds. 
The first I give you in the words of St. James ; 
" Let no man say when he is tempted, 6 I am 
tempted of God for God cannot be tempted with 
evil, neither tempteth he any man. But every 
man is tempted, when he is drawn away of his 
own lust and enticed." 

The second impression, which I could wish 
should be left with you, is expressed by St. Paul. 
" Let him that thinketh he standeth, take heed, 
lest he fall." From the liabilities to sin which we 
discern in every part of our nature, we are taught 
our dangers and our duties. We must feel how 



SOURCES OF SIN. 



209 



much we need to watch and to pray that we en- 
ter not into temptation. We must be always vi- 
gilant, always on the alert. They who navigate in 
a vessel liable to a thousand accidents, a sea in which 
there are shoals and currents innumerable, if they 
would keep their course or reach their port in 
safety, must watch over every part of their ship, 
carefully repair the smallest damages, and often 
throw out their line and take their observa- 
tions. So it should be with the christian in the 
dangerous voyage of life. He must never relax 
his watchfulness, however fair may seem the skies, 
and prosperous the gales; and in the storms of 
temptation, the anchor of his soul must be the 
hope of the gospel of Christ, sure and steadfast. 



27 



SERMON XVIII 



ORIGINAL SIN. 

ECCLESIASTES, VII. 29. 

Lo, this only have I found, that God hath made man 
upright ; but they have sought out many inven- 
tions. 

There are two important sentiments contained in 
this passage of scripture. The first is, that man, 
as he proceeds from the hand of his Maker, is 
what he ought to be. He is formed with all the 
capacities and endowments, animal, moral, and intel- 
lectual, which fit him for the circumstances in 
which he is placed. He is not indeed, an angel, 
and of course has not the powers of an angel. But 
he has all that such a being as a man should pos- 
sess, in order to do the duties of a man. He is 
placed for wise, but inscrutable purposes, in a scene 
of trial, discipline, probation. It is intended that 
he should form and exercise a character in this 
world, which will fit him for a higher sphere. In 
order to this, it is necessary that he should be both 



ORIGINAL SIX. 



211 



liable to sin, and capable of virtue ; and be fur- 
nished at the same time with motives to the one, 
and surrounded with temptations to the other. 
When therefore it is said that God makes man up- 
right, or more literally and properly, makes him 
right, it is not meant that he makes him originally 
perfect in wisdom or virtue ; but simply that he 
makes him right or perfect as a man ; he adapts 
his nature to his condition; he makes him exactly 
as a being placed in a state of trial ought to be 
made. He is formed liable to sin, because other- 
wise there could be no exercise or trial of virtue. 
He is made also capable of good ; for otherwise, to 
command him to be virtuous would only be the 
most cruel mockery. 

The second great sentiment of the text is, that 
as our Creator has formed us right, it is our own 
neglect or abuse of the nature He has given us, 
which is the cause of our sins. For that long and 
dark tissue of crimes, which the melancholy page 
of history records against our species, in ages that 
are past ; for all those enormities, Avhich we now 
shudder to behold acted before us on the theatre 
of the world ; for those many frailties and sins with 
which our own hearts daily reproach us ; we have 
no one to accuse but ourselves. The throne of 
God is spotless, though we were covered with pol- 
lution. We ought to carry this sentiment with us 
into all our speculations on the state and prospects 
of human nature. Whatever else may be false. 



212 



ORIGINAL SIN. 



we are sure that this is true, that the Judge of 
all the earth must do right. It is better to pre- 
sume any degree of error in the opinions of any 
description of men, than by supposing the original 
constitution of our nature sinful and corrupt, to 
make the Author of that nature responsible for 
human guilt. Let us believe any thing sooner than 
this. " Yea," saith the Apostle, " let God be just, 
and every man a liar." 

I have recently endeavoured to show, by an 
examination of the general facts and laws of our 
constitution, that the actual state of human na- 
ture corresponds to this representation. Every 
thing about us, as it proceeds from the hand of 
God, is good ; and it is our neglect and our abuse 
of it alone, which makes it bad. Our appetites are 
good. To satisfy our hunger or slake our thirst, is 
innocent and useful. This is the end for which our 
appetites are given ; and for this alone, the Author 
of our nature is responsible. But if, passing the 
limits of the real wants of nature, we become glut- 
tonous or intemperate, we know, we feel, that this 
is our fault alone. Our desires too are good. The 
ends for which they are implanted by Heaven are 
all good. To desire knowledge, esteem, power, 
superiority, society, or personal well-being, is inno- 
cent and useful. But if we cherish and foment 
our desires till they become passions ; if we seek 
the good ends to which they prompt us, by unjust 
and unholy means, and in this way become vain. 



ORIGINAL SIN. 



213 



proud, arrogant, envious, treacherous, unjust, and 
selfish — for this neglect and abuse of our nature, 
we alone are answerable. In the same way it may 
be shown, that every part of our original constitu- 
tion is useful and indispensable, and that it is fitted 
and designed by our Maker for good ; and that 
consequently for all the perversions of the good 
purposes for which our capacities or affections 
were given us. we, we only are to answer. Man is 
the author of his own sins, the cause of his own 
woes, the architect of his own ruin. O sinner, 
thou destroyest thyself. 

In the partial view already taken of this subject, 
the time did not permit an exhibition of scripture 
testimonies. I wish to supply this defect in the 
present discourse. In doing this, I shall simply ex- 
amine those passages, which some have thought to 
speak a different language. If these should seem 
not to justify the conclusions which have been 
drawn from them, the question, I suppose all will 
admit, is decided. 

The Mosaic account of the Fall of our first pa- 
rents, claims our first and chief attention. We all 
believe that "God created man in his own image; 
in the image of God created He him." The ques- 
tion is, whether, from any cause, God has been less 
beneficent to our nature than to that of our primi- 
tive father ; and now creates that in sin, which he 
originally formed in innocency. 

In the first chapter of Genesis, the design of the 



214 



ORIGINAL SIN. 



sublime historian is evidently to teach to all ages, 
in opposition to every system of atheism or idola- 
try, this grand truth ; that the world was created 
by one God, by one infinite Mind. Those, who 
besides this, seek for a system of philosophy and 
geology in the Mosaic narrative, are at liberty to 
find it ; but it is more, I think, than is professed to 
be given, more than seems necessary for revela- 
tion to impart, and more, therefore, than the sacred 
history ought to be made responsible for. That 
there is but one Creator of all things, is surely an 
idea magnificent enough to fill our loftiest concep- 
tions. 

In the same way, I conceive, it is the chief de- 
sign of the account of the Fall, to teach us why it 
is, that toil, and suffering, and death are the lot of 
man. After being told that there is one common 
Parent of all, who, when he had beheld every thing 
which he had made, saw that it was very good, the 
question would naturally arise in the mind of every 
one, " Why then is not the life of man happier? 
Why too is it not rendered immortal on the earth, 
or translated without death to the skies ?" These 
questions are answered, and most wisely and truly 
answered, in the account which is given us of the 
Fall of our first parents. We there see that the 
state of man was originally a state of unmingled 
happiness and exemption from death. The fairest 
possible experiment was made, — not indeed, to sa- 
tisfy the omniscient Creator, but to justify his ways 



ORIGINAL SIN. 



215 



to our minds. The man was placed in bowers of 
perfect bliss. The earth, unsolicited, brought 
forth her fairest and richest products, asking of 
him only to direct and prune her luxuriant abun- 
dance. Every gale wafted fragrance to him, every 
flower shed for him 44 odorous sweets," every tree 
bent with balmy and ambrosial fruits, inspiring him 
with health and joy. All was peace and universal 
love ; and, if the nature of man could have been 
trusted with perfect happiness and immortal life on 
earth, they were now within his reach. But it was 
soon seen that this was too much for a being so 
limited and imperfect. Man, being in honour, did 
not abide. He could not bear unmingled ease and 
prosperity. His desires passed the bounds of mo- 
deration. He fell from his innocence. He violat- 
ed the divine command. 

There, then, it was for ever demonstrated, that 
such a being as man, at his best estate on earth, is 
not capable of enduring unalloyed prosperity. He 
will infallibly abuse it. He needs adversity, 44 the 
tamer of the human breast," the 44 stern and rug- 
ged" but faithful nurse of virtue. He needs toil 
and pain and sorrow. Nay, all this is not enough 
to restrain the torrent of human passion. He 
needs death — that mysterious and terrible correc- 
tive of sin. He needs to know that his career on 
earth is bounded; that his days have their limit 
and their number ; that the desires of the wicked 
shall all finally perish. 



216 



ORIGINAL SIN. 



This is the lesson which is taught us by the fall 
of our first parents. We here see, why the infinite 
Beneficence of heaven has ordained our present 
state. We see why disease and suffering are sent 
on us ; why we are condemned to eat of the ground 
in sorrow; why it brings forth thorns and thistles 
to us ; why we are doomed to eat bread by the 
sweat of our face, till we return to the earth, and 
that inevitable sentence receives, its execution, 
" Dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return." 
Adam was a perfectly fair representative of our 
species. He was placed in the most favourable 
circumstances possible. If prosperity corrupted 
him, if he fell, what son of his can think that 
he should have succeeded better? Let him, who 
never knew sin, let him, who feels no frailty 
within his breast, demand back of his Maker the 
Paradise that Adam lost. 

You will observe that it is uniformly taken for 
granted in this account, that our primitive sire was 
exactly sueh a being as his children now are. He 
was no more than the most perfect specimen possi- 
ble of a man. He was a creature of flesh and blood, 
as we are ; of powers, capacities, affections, like 
our own ; and with that same inherent liability to 
sin, of which we are conscious. Not one word is 
uttered in the sacred narrative of his possessing an 
" original righteousness," which belongs not to our 
common nature. This is purely a fiction of sys- 
tematic theology. It is clear that his nature was 



ORIGINAL SIN*. 



217 



open to temptation as ours is ; else why did he 
fall ? he must like us, have had a law in his mem- 
bers warring against the law of his mind ; and he 
was actually led captive by it. Not one word is 
uttered, in the original sentence on Adam, of any 
depravation of our constitution in consequence of 
his offence. No malediction was poured on the 
nature of his hapless children by our most merci- 
ful and equitable Creator. Labour, suffering, and 
death were indeed allotted to him, and with him 
to all his sons. But we find nothing more than 
this. Not one word of that most terrific sentiment? 
that the frailty of one man is punished by perpetu- 
ally and totally corrupting the souls of all his inno- 
cent descendants, and while thus born incapable of 
good, dooming them to eternal and remediless woe. 

So far from this, the mercy of our God beams 
forth in all its brightness, even when he denounces 
the penalty of his violated law. Never does he 
appear more truly to be the tender and compas- 
sionate Father of our race. He inflicts indeed, 
upon man, the necessity of perpetual labour ; but 
labour, though thus the child of sin, he means 
should be the mother of virtue and of happiness. 
Suffering too is denounced. But it is still designed 
as the minister of good to man. It is meant to 
soften the rigour of his heart, to melt it to peni- 
tence, and bring him back to God. And even the 
sentence of death, full of terrors, as it must always 
be, was mitigated to the first pair, at the moment 
28 



218 



ORIGINAL SIN. 



it was uttered, by the promise, that the seed of the 
woman should bruise the serpent's head. And 
blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus 
Christ, we now know that even then a ransom was 
providing from its power, and that a glorious plan 
of redemption was formed, which was to lead cap- 
tivity captive, to reconcile the world to God, and 
unfold life and immortality to all the faithful fol- 
lowers of Jesus. 

In this view of the apostasy of our first pa- 
rents — which is not essentially affected, whether 
you regard it as a literal narrative, an oriental alle- 
gory, or a philosophical fable — the consequences 
of the Fall on their posterity are represented to be 
toil, pain, and death. I beg you now to read over 
the sacred history, and convince yourselves, that 
not a hint, not a word is to be found, which implies 
that the nature of man was cursed for the sin of 
Adam, and his heart tainted and blackened to the 
very core. If we were not accustomed to such an 
idea in infancy, I am persuaded that every feeling 
of our souls would revolt from it, and that we 
should wonder that every christian does not re- 
gard it as a libel on the infinite benignity of our just 
and merciful Creator. 

If then we find nothing in the sentence passed 
upon Adam, which declares that his posterity 
should bring with them into the world a guilty na- 
ture, we may be satisfied that such an idea cannot 
be really found in any other passage of scripture, 



ORIGINAL SIN. 



219 



For the original sentence would certainly contain 
the whole of his punishment. There are three or 
four passages, however, from which a contrary 
idea has been inferred, which I will just point out 
to your notice. 

In the fifth chapter of Genesis it is said, that 
Seth was born " in the likeness of Adam, after his 
image," and from this it is inferred that the like- 
ness of God, in which Adam was created, had been 
lost. But how obvious is it to remark, that if Seth 
was like to Adam, and Adam like to God, then 
Seth must also be like to God. And if there could 
be any doubt, it would be put to rest by a passage 
in the ninth chapter of the same book, where the 
reason given why murder is to be punished by 
death is, that in the image of God made he man. 
And again in James iii. 9, where it is said of all 
men, they are made after the similitude of God. 

We find in the sixth chapter of Genesis a strong 
description of the sinfulness of our race, which 
preceded the deluge. It was indeed dreadful. 
But as it is expressly ascribed to man's voluntary 
abuse of his nature, it can lend no aid to the idea 
of its original guilt. " All flesh" it is said, " had 
corrupted his way upon the earth." A similar re- 
mark may be extended to a parallel passage in 
the fourteenth psalm. 

Nothing further is found to support this idea in 
all the writings of Moses, and all the historical 
books of the Old Testament. 



220 



ORIGINAL SIN. 



In the fifteenth chapter of Job, fourteenth and 
sixteenth verses, it is said, " What is man that he 
should be clean ? and he that is born of a woman 
that he should be righteous." " How much more 
abominable and filthy is man,which drinketh iniquity 
like water." This passage I have already consi- 
dered in a former discourse. It is from the mouth, 
you will remember, of one of those friends of Job, 
who were reproved by the Almighty for their ig- 
norance and presumption. 

The next passage that is quoted, is from the 
fifty first Psalm, in which David in the agony of 
his remorse and contrition, exclaims ; " Behold, I 
was shapen in iniquity, and in sin did my mother 
conceive me." This language, at the thought of 
his atrocious crimes, we should say would be in 
our own tongue nothing more than a natural hy- 
perbole. How plainly does it seem so, when we 
consider the latitude of oriental poetry. 

In all the recorded teachings of our Lord him- 
self, it is not pretended by any one, that there is 
any declaration of the native corruption of the 
human heart. He addresses mankind as sinners, as 
we all know ourselves to be, and calls them to re- 
pentance and conversion. But he never intimates 
that they brought their sin with them into the 
world, that they were born the objects of the wrath 
and curse of their Creator, or addresses them as 
naturally incapable of doing any thing which God 
has made it their duty to perform. 



ORIGINAL SIN. 



221 



I might be excused from any farther examina- 
tion of the few detached passages, which are some- 
times quoted for this opinion ; since it is monstrous 
to suppose that any essential doctrine of the religion 
of Christ is wholly omitted, and even contradicted, 
in his own teachings. There is one passage, how- 
ever, to which I would just allude. In the fifth 
chapter of Romans the Apostle draws a contrast 
between the blessings introduced by Christ, and 
the evils which were the consequence of the fall. 
The phraseology which he uses in one or two ver- 
ses sounds somewhat strong to a merely English 
ear, though the idea is very obviously consistent 
with the general doctrine of the scriptures. " By 
one man," says the Apostle, " sin entered into the 
world, and death by sin ; and so death passed upon 
all men ;" why ? because he had sinned ? No, but be- 
cause " all have sinned." Death is inflicted on them, 
for the same reason that it was inflicted on him. 
But as Adam was a specimen, a representative, of 
his species, the death which passes on all is repre- 
sented in the subsequent verses, by way of brevity, 
as the penalty of his offence ; and that they are 
treated as sinners, is spoken of as the consequence 
of his sin. No one, however, who attends to the 
general scope and spirit of the passage will be in 
danger of misunderstanding the Apostle ; particu- 
larly if we remember what the original sentence 
passed on Adam was, and consider, that St. Paul 
cannot mean to teach any thing contrary to what 
is there taught. 



222 



ORIGINAL SIN. 



But I know not but that I have already dwelt 
longer on this subject, than was necessary for your 
conviction. It has been my wish to clear the sa- 
cred volume, on which I truly think the best hopes 
of the human race depend, from the reproach of 
ascribing the sinfulness of man to the Author of 
his being. It is this desire alone of vindicating 
Christianity from what to many minds would be a 
fatal objection to it, that has led me to these 
observations. For among truly practical chris- 
tians I never found any essential diversity on this 
subject to exist. All agree that we are sinners, 
whose hope must be in the mercy of God in 
Christ Jesus. All agree that we are liable to sin 
in every part of our nature, unless we watch and 
pray lest we enter into temptation. All agree — 
whether consistently or not is of little importance; — 
that our original depravity must be understood in 
such a sense as is consistent with our powers to do 
our duty, and with ascribing the blame of it whol- 
ly to ourselves ; consistent too, with those passages 
of scripture which declare that sin is a transgres- 
sion of a law ; that the fathers shall not be put to 
death for the children, nor the children for the 
fathers, but every man for his own sin ; that the 
son shall not bear the iniquity of the father, nor 
the father the iniquity of the son ; that every one 
of us shall give account of himself to God. This 
is surely enough for all practical purposes. It is 
enough to place repentance, humility, and the ne- 



ORIGINAL SIX. 



cessity of conversion from sin, on the proper 
ground. 

Let it then be the influence of this discourse, 
to increase our dread and detestation of sin. The 
view we have taken, so far from lessening, should 
heighten our sense of it, since we see that it is en- 
tirely a personal thing ; that we do not inherit guilt 
from our progenitors, and that we have no one to 
accuse for it but ourselves. Let us gather motives, 
by God's grace, to resist the power of sin, by 
thinking of its opposition to the character of God ; 
to his benevolent purposes ; to our own true happi- 
ness; to the harmony and happiness of the universe. 
Let us remember that it was to destroy sin that 
Christ came into the world ; that it was for this 
he toiled and wept, and bled and died ; that the 
voice both of nature and revelation proclaims that 
sin is that accursed thing which God's soul hateth. 
" O that my people had hearkened unto me. O 
that they were wise, that they understood this, 
that they would consider their latter end. Turn 
ye, turn ye, from your evil way, for why will ye 
die, saith the Lord." 

Let us then be persuaded by the mercies and 
by the terrors of the Lord, by the certainty of 
death, by the solemnities of judgment, by our re- 
gard to the eternal welfare of our souls, to break 
off from our sins by righteousness, to abjure them 
entirely and forever, and to seek the Lord while 
he may be found. 



SERMON XIX 



UNITY OF GOD. 

mark, xii. 29, 32, 34. 

And Jesus answered him ; The first of all the com- 
mandments is, Hear, O Israel ; the Lord our God 
is one Lord. And the Scribe said unto him, Well, 
Master, thou hast said the truth ; for there is 
one God ; and there is none other but he. And 
when Jesus saw that he answered discreetly, he said 
unto him, Thou art not far from the kingdom of 
God. 

It is my design, on the present occasion, my 
christian friends, to depart, in some degree, from 
the rule which I habitually prescribe to myself, in 
the selection of topics on which to address you from 
this place ; and to give you a brief survey of the 
question which has for so many ages existed in the 
christian church, with relation to the Unity of the 
Divine Nature. 

In endeavouring to fulfil the duty of ministers of 
the Gospel of Christ, those, who bear that office 



UNITY OP GOD, 



225 



among you, have usually contented themselves with 
presenting those views of its great truths which have 
seemed to us, after the most careful inquiry we 
could make, to be the real doctrines of that gospel. 
We have ever believed, that the religion of Jesus 
stands clear of the controversies in which his disci- 
ples have engaged ; and that it is possible to have 
a perfectly just view of its essential principles, with- 
out the smallest knowledge of the greater part of 
those differences, which have so long troubled the 
repose of Christendom. Entertaining this belief, 
we have seemed to ourselves to discharge our duty, 
when, according to the measure of our best ability, 
we have unfolded, without addition and without 
diminution, what we have conscientiously thought 
to be the true principles of the christian system. 
It is very seldom that we have felt it necessary to 
allude to the different statements of those princi- 
ples made by other christians. It was painful to 
dwell on what could not but be esteemed the mis- 
takes, and sometimes the weaknesses of our fel- 
low-believers. Thinking you to be very little ex- 
posed to danger from the influence of their errors, 
we could take no joy in holding them up to your 
derision, and still less, in exciting your animosity 
against those who have, in our judgment, departed 
from the simplicity that there is in Christ. We 
have, therefore, been always more solicitous to im- 
press on you what is true, than to discuss what is 
false ; and have thought it more in the spirit of 
29 



226 



UNITY OF GOD. 



the religion of peace, to shew you in how much 
christians agree, than to magnify the importance 
of those points, in which they unhappily differ. 
We trust, that it has ever been the wish nearest 
our hearts to give you a practical impression of 
the nature, the worth, and the beauty of those 
great features of the gospel, on which our Lord 
himself insisted; under the influence of which, the 
true christian character is to be formed, and on 
which, therefore, our final hopes of salvation must 
depend. — The very last object of our ambition 
would be, to make you skilful controvertists ; to 
indoctrinate you in the miserable technics of the 
sects ; to narrow the magnificence of revelation to 
the paltry metaphysics of the schools ; and to ex- 
hibit the solemn and sublime principles of christian 
faith and hope — so clear to the reason, so corre- 
spondent to the moral nature, so affecting to the 
heart of every fair and honest man — in the cum- 
brous and distorted dress, which was given them 
in the darkest ages of the church. Still more 
anxious have we felt, that you should not catch the 
spirit, any more than the language of controver- 
tists. It is a spirit, deadly to the best virtues of 
the christian character. Nothing is more deplo- 
rable than its constant effects. It blinds the eye ; it 
hardens the heart ; it obliterates the distinction be- 
tween right and wrong; it makes evil good, and 
good evil ; it leads men to think they are doing God 
service, and honouring the cause of their Saviour, 



UNITY OF GOD. 



22? 



when they are trampling on his most sacred laws — 
the laws of charity and truth. In every age of 
the church, it has sought to rend asunder the 
"seamless robe of Christ," and cover it with the 
blood of contending sectarians. 

The correctness of the maxims by which we 
have sought to preach the gospel, we are content- 
ed should be tried by the manner in which Ave 
have treated the controversy with respect to the 
unity of the divine nature. Without assailing at 
all the belief of others, we have simply and uni- 
formly presented those views only which seemed 
to us just. We have spoken of the Lord our God, 
always and only, as One Lord, and declared that 
there is none other but he. In our preaching, and 
in our prayers, we call you to witness, we have 
led you to him, as the great and single object of 
religious worship; and have invited you to ask, 
through Jesus Christ, for all things, of his Father 
and our Father ; of his God and our God. Very 
sensible that those may love the Lord Jesus Christ 
in sincerity, who have very different, and in some 
respects very erroneous ideas of his nature, we 
have not sought to diminish your respect for our 
Trinitarian brethren ; but have been willing to trust 
to the progress of free inquiry into the meaning of 
the sacred scriptures, to rectify what we think to 
be their mistaken ideas. 

On the most deliberate review of the maxim* 
on which our preaching has proceeded, I feel sa- 



228 



UNITY OF GOB. 



tisfied that they are just and evangelical ; and I 
had hoped to have been able to conform my prac- 
tice to them, as long as my life should be spared, 
and I should be permitted to continue my honour- 
able labours as a servant of Christ. 

" But we have fall'n on evil days, 

" On evil days have fall'n, and evil tongues." 

Our forbearance is made a crime ; and our un- 
willingness to denounce those who differ from us, 
and to turn our churches into halls of unhallowed 
and unchristian disputation, is imputed to the most 
unworthy motives. 

To you, my friends, it is unnecessary to offer a 
word of comment on this subject ; or to assure you 
that we shall not be deterred from performing our 
duty, in the manner in which, before God, we think 
w T e ought to do it, by the misguided zeal of those 
who know not " what spirit they are of." Still, 
however, as the question with regard to the divine 
unity excites a strong interest among many excel- 
lent christians, and as its real nature is, after all, 
but little understood, I have thought it might be 
useful for once, to give you a general view of the 
state of this question, and its connexion with oth- 
er doctrines. I do not know any better mode of 
leading you to a right judgment in this controversy, 
than by simply telling you what it is ; and how far 
any vital principle of the gospel is involved in the 
decision of it. 



UNITY OF GOD. 229 

The testimony of the sacred scriptures is so full, 
so clear, and so express as to the truth that God is 
one, that all christians, of all denominations, admit 
it as a primary and undeniable principle. It is so 
solemnly declared to us, both in the Old Testament 
and the New, That the Lord our God is one Lord, 
that there is none other but he, and that we shall 
have no other before him ; that all christians must 
agree, that unless their opinions are consistent with 
this first and great truth, they must be unscriptural 
and false. Our Trinitarian brethren, however, sup- 
pose that God is not one in the common meaning of 
this word, but only in a mysterious sense; that there 
exists in the divine nature a threefold division ; 
and, consequently, they must believe that Moses, 
in the Old Testament, and our Saviour in the text, 
would have spoken more definitely and exactly if 
they had said, The Lord our God is one God in 
three persons — the holy one of Israel is in effect 
the holy three — there are none other but they. 
With regard to the meaning of the word person in 
this proposition, there is a very great diversity 
among our brethren ; and, indeed, for the most 
part, they seem to agree in nothing with respect to 
it, but in condemning those who decline to use it. 
You will judge what this word must practically 
mean, however, when you consider, that they all 
suppose that each of these persons has a distinct 
name, a distinct office — is a distinct object of peti- 
tion, and a distinct object of worship; that the 



230 



UNITY OF GOD. 



Father is the supreme and self-existent God, the 
Son is the supreme and self-existent God, and 
the Holy Ghost is the supreme and self-existent 
God. Still, however, though nothing seems want- 
ing here to complete the idea of three distinct be- 
ings, our brethren most earnestly, and I doubt not, 
most sincerely disclaim the idea of three Gods ; 
and heaven forbid, my friends, that we should im- 
pute to them any belief which they disavow. I 
-would only say, that my own mind is unable to 
make the distinction between a person and a being. 
I can conceive of one God ; or I can conceive of three 
Gods; but of an existence which is neither one nor 
three, in any known meaning of these terms, and 
yet is affirmed to be both one and three, I cannot 
form the most remote conception. The moment 
that I affix any idea whatever to these words, they 
form in my mind the most express and formal con- 
tradiction. Other men's understandings may be 
differently constructed ; but for myself, unless the 
proposition of the Trinity means that there are 
three Gods, it does not convey to me the smallest 
gleam of meaning. One cannot with so much pro- 
priety be said to disbelieve such a proposition, as 
to be wholly ignorant of its meaning. It is not re- 
jected because it is a mystery, but because, if it be 
not a contradiction in terms, it is nothing — nothing 
but words without any ideas. Our brethren, how- 
ever, do not view the subject in this light, and, 
as far as this is so, they deserve praise for fol- 



UNITY OF GOD. 231 

lowing with fidelity their best convictions of what 
is right. We, my friends, when we do the same, 
I should hope, would at least be thought not to 
merit censure. 

This, however, is not the whole of that doctrine 
which is called the doctrine of the Trinity ; a 
word, you remember, not found in the sacred 
scriptures, and indeed not invented till lon^ after 
the birth of Christ. Our brethren mean some- 
thing more by it than I have yet stated to you. 
Besides the doctrine that the nature of God com- 
prehends three perfectly distinct, supreme, and 
self-existent persons, they make the enormous ad- 
dition of supposing, that one of these persons pos- 
sesses a Human as well as a Divine nature — is at 
the same time perfect God and perfect man — at 
one and the same moment, the infinite, eternal, un- 
changeable Jehovah, and a frail, feeble, and im- 
perfect mortal like ourselves ! I fear, my friends, 
that some of you who have not much attended to 
this subject, may think that this representation 
cannot be accurate, and that it is impossible any 
should think they find such a theory as this in the 
Bible which you habitually read. You may ask, 
whether it is possible that any one can suppose, 
that if a doctrine like this were the true doctrine, 
our Lord would have made the solemn declaration 
in our text, of the Unity of God, without the 
slightest qualification of its meaning. When the 
great object of Judaism had been to secure the 



232 



UNITY OF GOD. 



worship of the only living and true God ; when 
such heavy denunciations had been uttered against 
every appearance of idolatry ; would the introduc- 
tion of two new objects of worship, seemingly at 
least so inconsistent with this great truth, have 
drawn from our Lord no word of explanation? In 
the whole course of his preaching would he have 
given no hint of such a doctrine ? When he gives 
us so many examples of prayer, would they all 
have been directed to his Father alone ? Would 
all his numerous and express precepts for prayer, 
too, have led us to the same object alone, and in 
the same name, or as the disciples merely of his 
Son ? Then, too, if he were really existing on the 
earth in a double nature, would he have never given 
the slightest intimation of it ? would neither he 
nor his apostles have ever hinted that any one 
thing was said or done by him, in his nature as 
Almighty God, and others, in his nature as a mere 
man ? would they have uniformly, through the 
New Testament, spoken of him as a distinct being 
and a distinct person from his father, without the 
least caution or limitation? Would he have de- 
clared, that his Father was greater than he ? that 
of himself he could do nothing, that his doctrine 
was not his own, but his that sent him — that he 
was ignorant of the day of judgment — that he 
was the embassador of his Father — that he was his 
minister — that he obeyed him — was taught by 
him — was anointed by him — received all his au- 
thority, fulness or sufficiency from him? And final- 



UNITY OF GOD. 233 

iy wouid it be said, that he is to deliver up his 
kingdom to God even the Father, that he alone 
may be all in all ? Would such representations 
as these be given in every page of the New Tes- 
tament, leading, as they evidently do, necessarily to 
such conclusions, and not one word of caution be 
given to us, not a syllable of explanation or com- 
ment — not a line to guard us from an error, which, 
it is said, is fatal to our eternal salvation? " Hadst 
thou," we may say in the language of the venera- 
ble Watts, " hadst thou informed me, gracious Fa- 
ther, in any place of thy word, that thy divine 
doctrine is not to be understood by men, and yet 
they were required to believe it, I would have 
subdued all my curiosity to faith. But I cannot find 
thai thou hast any where forbid us to understand 
it or to make these inquiries — thou hast called the 
poor, the ignorant, the mean and the foolish things 
of this world to the knowledge of thyself, and thy 
Son. But how can such weak creatures ever take 
in so strange, so difficult, so abstruse a doctrine ? in 
the explanation and defence of which multitudes 
of men, even men of learning and of piety, have 
lost themselves in infinite subtilties of disputes and 
endless mazes of darkness." And can this strange 
and perplexing notion be so necessary and impor- 
tant a part of Christian doctrine, which, in the Old 
and New Testament, is represented as so plain and 
easy, even to the meanest understandings ? I should 
not be surprised, therefore, if, in considering these 
30 



234 



UNITY OP GOD. 



things, some of you, who have taken your Chris- 
tianity only from the Bible, should suppose, that 
the representation I have given of the doctrine of 
the Trinity must be a mistaken one ; and that it is 
impossible that any should be found who really be- 
lieve that our Lord's declaration in the text, of the 
Unity of God, means in fact, that the divine nature 
comprehends three distinct, supreme, self-existent 
persons, one of them possessing, at the same time, 
the nature of a man, and the nature of the eternal 
God. 

But this is the exact doctrine I do assure you ; 
for I should abhor myself, if I could, in the least, 
exaggerate it. It is this and nothing else — and is it 
an inexpiable crime not to find this doctrine in the 
holy scriptures ? And do we deny the Lord who 
bought us, if we are unable to understand and 
preach it ? And have we forfeited our Christiani- 
ty, nay, our integrity as men, because we have not 
so learned and so preached Christ? Will this ac- 
cusation be repeated by our brethren, think you, 
when we all stand together before the judgment 
seat of Christ ? O far, far rather would I appear 
before my Judge, at that solemn hour, with all the 
accumulated errors and absurdities which the hu- 
man mind in its most pitiable weakness has ever 
engendered, than with the tremendous responsibi- 
lity of having made such charges as these against 
my brethren, on light and insufficient grounds. 

I have thus endeavoured fairly to represent to 



UNITY OF GOD. 



23 a 



you what this doctrine really is. I do not say that 
no argument can be alleged in favour of it ; for 
what is there for which ingenious men cannot find 
arguments? If you wished, for instance, to prove 
that Solomon is an object of divine worship, you 
might reason thus ; — at the dedication of the tem- 
ple, it is said, " And all the people worshipped 
God and the king." Or if you desired to find 
the divinity of Moses, you might quote the decla- 
ration of Jehovah, " I will make thee a God unto 
Pharaoh." In short, if you will not take the first 
principles of reason with you to the study of the 
sacred scriptures, there is no imaginable contradic- 
tion so great that you cannot find for it the sem- 
blance of support. 

If you will search the sacred scriptures with a 
meek and reverent application of your best powers 
to understand them, you will find, no doubt, many 
strong descriptions of a being so dignified as is our 
Lord in himself, so perfect in his character, so 
great in his office, so supernatural in his powers, 
and now exalted so high by God, as our Prince and 
Saviour ; but you will find nothing, I am persuaded, 
inconsistent with the truth, that the God whom we 
love and adore, is one God in one person only. 

To this examination of the scriptures, I would 
solemnly exhort all who entertain any anxieties on 
this subject. But in order that this examination 
may be made without too much solicitude for the 
result, I will attempt, very briefly, to show how 



236 



UNITY OF GOD. 



little this doctrine is connected with any thing es- 
sential to our faith and our hope. 

Let it then be observed, in the first place, that 
this is not a question which involves the divine ori- 
gin of the christian religion, and cannot, therefore, 
with propriety, be called a question as to the divin- 
ity of our Saviour. Those who believe that God 
is one, in the most absolute sense, believe as fully 
as any other christians, that our religion is from 
Heaven, and that he who revealed it, came from 
God and went to God. There is no character in 
which they find him unfolded, in which they do not 
most cheerfully, reverently, and gratefully acknow- 
ledge him ; they own him as the interpreter of 
God's will, as the visible representative of God's 
glory, as the angel of God's grace ; and they take 
all his Avords— being, as he himself declares, not 
his own, but his Father's who sent him — as the 
words of God himself. A great obstacle to calm 
and unprejudiced examination of this subject, is 
produced by an idea that it affects the divinity of 
our Lord, which, when we consider that the di- 
vine origin of our religion, the divine commission 
of our Saviour, and his possession of divine powers, 
are left on every theory unquestioned and entire, 
will appear to have no just foundation. All this, 
surely, it is possible to believe, in the fairest mean- 
ing of the words, without supposing that our Sav- 
iour is himself that very God in whose name he 
Tells us he spoke ; without believing that he is at 



UNITY OF GOD. 



237 



once the sender and the sent ; the Mediator be- 
tween himself and man ; without, in short, believ- 
ing in a proposition, which confounds not only all 
the propriety, but all the meaning of language ; a 
proposition not simply imperfectly comprehended, 
but wholly unintelligible ; not merely of a difficult 
meaning, but absolutely with no assignable meaning 
at all. 

In the second place, it should be carefully re- 
marked, that a belief in the perfect unity of the 
Divine Nature is entirely consistent with the con- 
viction, that all the blessings of Christianity flow 
from God, as their original source. It has been 
sometimes supposed, that unless we believe the ab- 
solute deity of Christ, we must attribute our sal- 
vation to a being infinitely inferior to God. But 
surely, whatever may be the nature or dignity of 
the agent whom our Maker employs as the instru- 
ment of his beneficence, it is not the less to be 
regarded as flowing solely from him. The author, 
the plan, the terms, the means, and the efficacy of 
the means of salvation, are, on every supposition, 
all and wholly of God; nor is this truth in the 
slightest degree affected, or even touched by the 
inquiry, whether or not it is revealed that there 
are mysterious divisions in the unity of the divine 
nature. 

Thirdly, — There is another misapprehension 
with regard to the subject, closely connected with 
that to which I have just alluded. It is, that unless 



238 



UNITY OF GOD. 



we believe Christ to be the Supreme God, we 
cannot regard him as our all-sufficient Saviour. 
But if, as we all most sacredly believe, God him- 
self is the original author of all the blessings of 
our redemption, to doubt the sufficiency of him, 
whom he has sent to diffuse them, what is it, but to 
doubt the sufficiency of God himself? Does then 
the efficacy of these blessings depend in the least 
on the dignity of the instrument employed to im- 
part them ? Could not God, if it were his plea- 
sure, of the very stones raise up children to Abra- 
ham ? Could he not communicate enough of pow- 
er to any being he has created, to effect any 
purpose which he sees to be best ? And shall it 
be said that his beloved Son, whom he hath sanc- 
tified and sent into the world, and on whom he 
hath poured his spirit without measure, is still not 
competent to the work assigned to him, unless we 
suppose that he shares the throne, and divides the 
honours of his Father? 

Fourthly, Another circumstance which has 

prevented men from taking a calm survey of this 
subject, is its supposed connexion with what is call- 
ed the doctrine of the Atonement. I have, on 
other occasions, given you such views of the con- 
nexion of the death of our Lord with human sal- 
vation, as have seemed to me just and evangelical. 
1 shall only remark, at present, that there is no 
view of the nature of our Saviour, more eminently 
inconsistent with every idea of an atonement, than 



UNITY OF GOD. 



239 



that of our Trinitarian brethren ; for they all must 
and do believe, that Jesus suffered only in his hu- 
man nature. It would be too monstrous to suppose 
that Almighty God himself wept in agony; that 
he, whose nature is impassible, endured the sever- 
est tortures ; that the Creator of the universe was 
the scorn and mockery of his sinful creatures, died 
by their hands, and left, for three days, the uni- 
verse without a governor ! nature without a God ! 
This is too horrible to be directly maintained by 
any one. As, therefore, the divine nature could 
not suffer, it was man alone, on this theory, that died 
for us, and however unwilling to be so conjoined, 
it is certain, that every Trinitarian precisely agrees 
with the Socinian whom he so much abhors. 

What a lesson is it of the futility of these un- 
holy disputes, to find, that they who seem at the 
farthest remove from their opponents, after filling 
the world with the noise of their contention, and 
bringing accumulated disgrace on the cause of 
Christ, do yet, after all, practically meet and unite 
in exactly the same conclusion. 

There are many other considerations which 
crowd on us, to shew how little would be lost to 
any thing which we ought to value, if this doctrine 
were entirely and for ever forgotten in the church. 
It is time, however, to close this subject, and it is 
with the greatest pleasure I can truly say, that I 
end the first, and I trust the last, discourse on this 
deplorable controversy, which you will ever hear 



240 



UNITY OF GGI>. 



from me. I can hardly describe the pain and re- 
luctance with which I have submitted to a duty 
which the times seemed to impose. 

If I could have doubted before of the wisdom 
of that system of abstinence from these debates, 
to which we owe the christian peace and harmony 
that we enjoy in this place, I could not doubt it af- 
ter this experiment. I feel more than ever, that 
this system, which is charged on us as a crime, is 
the most unequivocal title which we can produce 
to the approbation of our fellow christians. If 
there were no other objection to the controversy, 
than that it unavoidably leads us to speak and to 
think with so much familiarity and freedom, of the 
existence, the nature, and the name, of that awful 
Power that made us ; an idea in every form to be 
consecrated in our minds, and never to be con- 
nected but with our holiest thoughts, and most 
solemn and devout feelings ; this alone should teach 
us to banish it for ever from this place. 

The mere technical language of this unsanctified 
dispute, which one is compelled to use in speaking 
of it, fills the mind with intolerable disgust, and 
seems almost to desecrate the temple where it is 
introduced. I trust that the wealth of worlds 
w 7 ould not buy me habitually to employ the time 
which we pass in this place, in arguing on either 
side of this controversy, which was born in the 
eclipse of Christianity ; which has ministered to noth- 
ing but strife and vain jangling ; which has so long 
been the dishonour and opprobrium of the chris- 



UNITY OF GOD. 



241 



tian cause, and a greater obstacle to its progress, 
than all the arguments of all its enemies united. 

There is one short rule on this subject, with the 
suggestion of which I conclude ; it is, that when- 
ever we speak of the nature of God, or the person 
of our Saviour, Ave should confine ourselves to the 
language of the sacred scriptures. This I have 
ever attempted to do, and here, surely, all chris- 
tians might unite. Here we should avoid all error 
both of sentiment and language. 

May God send us a consummation so devoutly to 
be wished. Then would all men worship God the 
Father in spirit and in truth ; then would all bow 
the knee unto the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. 
In that day we should ask of him nothing, but 
whatsoever we should ask the Father, in his name, 
he would give it us. 

May his peace be with you all for ever. 



Note. — The English edition of this sermon was prefaced by some "In- 
troductory Observations," which stated the reasons of its being published 
without the knowledge of the author. A manuscript copy of it, it is there 
said, was sent over to some gentlemen of his acquaintance, who thought it so 
excellent, and were so frequently applied to for permission to peruse it, that 
they determined to strike off a few copies, in order to satisfy the interest 
which it excited. Some general remarks follow, on the American contro- 
versy, which it is unnecessary to quote. The observations are dated, Li- 
verpool, 10th October, 1816. In January 1817, the discourse was reprinted 
in Boston, with the introductory observations from the English edition, and 
the following preface : 

" The following Sermon was preached in this town, in the autumn of 
eighteen hundred and fifteen, in consequence of the attempt then made to 

31 



242 



UNITY OP GOD. 



destroy the influence and to injure the moral and christian character of the 
ministers of Boston. The Sermon was received with that approbation, to 
which it was entitled by its forcible illustrations of truth, and by its excel- 
lent spirit. Every reader, who recollects the extent of the provocation, 
must admire the generous and truly christian forbearance, with which it 
was met by the author ; and will acknowledge, that Unitarianism has at 
least one mark of truth, and that is, the benignant and forgiving temper 
which it inspires. The discourse was sent to England by one of the hear- 
ers, without a thought of its being published. But, for the reasons stated 
in the "introductory observations," a few copies were printed. This par- 
tial publication has induced the friends of the author to issue an edition of 
it in this country. His absence renders an application for his consent im- 
possible ; but if he shall learn, in another hemisphere, that, whilst distant 
from us, he continues to diffuse the truths and spirit of the gospel, we 
trust that the sufferings of absence and sickness will be mitigated, and his 
submission to the providence of God be animated and confirmed." 

In the American edition, some important errors of the English one were 
corrected. A few immaterial alterations from it have been made in the 
present edition, and generally on the authority of the original manuscript. 



SERMON XX.* 



INFLUENCE OF THE FEMALE CHARACTER. 
PROVERBS, XXXI. 28. 

Her children arise up, and call her blessed. 

The society which has intrusted to me the office 
of addressing you on this occasion, proposes to it- 
self an object so evidently important, that it hardly 
seems to require any thing more to be said in its 
favour than simply to state what it is. If benefi- 
cence is ever a duty, if charity is ever a virtue, if 
the sentiment of pity is ever graceful and lovely 
in the human breast, it must be when our exertions 
are directed to alleviate the sufferings of the indi- 
gent widow, and extend protection to the helpless 
innocence of female youth. Besides the general 
considerations, however, which recommend this in- 
stitution, there is a point of view not so immedi- 
ately obvious, in which its value strikes the mind 
with peculiar force. It not only aims to save the 
orphan child from want, but to preserve it from 

* Preached before the Salem Female Charitable Society, Aug. 3, 1814. 



244 INFLUENCE OF THE FEMALE CHARACTER. 

vice ; not only to save its body from suffering, but 
its mind from degradation. It offers to an interest- 
ing portion of the community the opportunities and 
means of virtue and improvement, and thereby 
contributes to raise the character, not only of these 
children, but of all those to whom their influence 
may hereafter extend. 

As then this society proposes to improve the 
character of a portion of the female sex, its value 
may be measured by the degree and importance 
of that influence which the female sex exerts on 
society. It has seemed to me therefore that I 
shall take a subject altogether appropriate to this 
occasion, by offering some remarks on the influence 
of the female character, on the civilization and man- 
ners, the intellectual character, the virtue, the re- 
ligion, and consequently the happiness of man here 
and hereafter. The subject is a very extensive 
one, and I can, therefore, only hope to present you 
with a few general considerations, which may per- 
haps lead you to pursue the inquiry more fully for 
yourselves. 

As the subject thus selected is not usually made 
a distinct topic of discourse from the pulpit, it may 
be proper to offer one or two preliminary observa- 
tions. From some remains probably of the extra- 
vagant spirit of the age of chivalry, or from some 
less respectable cause, it has been usual to speak 
of women, when in the presence of the sex, only 
in a strain of the most extravagant and unmeaning 
adulation. I trust it is scarcely necessary to say, 



INFLUENCE OF THE FEMALE CHARACTER. 245 

that I deem far too highly of the real dignity of 
the female character, of the sanctity of this place, 
and of the cause with which I am entrusted, to be 
influenced by such a custom. I should feel humbled 
and degraded, if it were thought possible that I 
could speak on this subject in any other language, 
than I should use if my audience were entirely of 
my own sex. 

It may be proper also to observe that when the 
influence of the female character is spoken of, its 
general and steady influence is meant, and not that 
which may be considered as merely accidental and 
extraordinary. There have been individuals whose 
character has produced powerful effects in particu- 
lar countries, by the display of powers which are 
not the usual attributes of their sex. Such names 
as those of Semiramis, Boadicea, Elizabeth, and 
Catharine, are connected no doubt with many great 
and important events ; but they are surrounded with 
a kind of splendour, which seems to me neither natu- 
ral nor pleasing. We regard them very much as we 
do those wandering luminaries, which are but rarely 
seen in the heavens, and which appear to have de- 
serted their proper and accustomed sphere. There 
is something of a feeling of dread, mingled with 
our admiration of their fierce and dazzling lustre. 
But the true and permanent glory of woman is a 
star of milder aspect, and more benignant influence. 
She decorates and cheers a less ambitious and er- 
ratic sphere ; and without bringing " fear of change 



246 INFLUENCE OF THE FEMALE CHARACTER. 

to nations," shines only on the retirements, and 
gives life to the virtues and joys, of private and 
domestic life. 

The influence of the female character on the 
civilization and manners of a community, will rea- 
dily be acknowledged by all who remember what 
has been the history of the progress of society. 
Where woman is respected, the circumstance is 
always found to be an unfailing proof of the exist- 
ence of the essential arts, habits and feelings of 
cultivated life. The manner in which the female 
character operates on the state of society in this 
respect, it might not be easy fully to explain ; but 
it is in some particulars exceedingly evident. Civili- 
zation is marked by a regard to those laws, which 
give peace and order to social life in general, and by 
which the whole community is made the guardian 
of the rights and privileges of each member of it. 
Manners consist in a voluntary submission to certain 
particular and conventional regulations of private 
society, which are tacitly agreed on for its comfort 
and happiness, as well as its decoration. The in- 
fluence of woman tends most powerfully to pre- 
pare and train men for obedience to both these 
classes of laws. Where woman is regarded with 
respect, her favour will be sought by a conformity 
to what she approves. In her presence, therefore, 
the expression of the ruder passions will be silen- 
ced, the fierceness of pride will be subdued, the 
arrogance of power will be repressed, and it is for 



INFLUENCE OF THE FEMALE CHARACTER. 247 

her to determine what degree of decency and pu- 
rity shall subsist in all the external intercourse of 
society. That proud and lordly will, which could 
not brook the control of law and the restraints of 
order, thus bows with an unforced submission to the 
female sway ; and this habitual subordination of the 
heart to her authority, prepares man for the less 
grateful chains of regulated life. 

But it is in the domestic state that the influence 
of woman is most powerfully felt. There is the se- 
minary of the social affections ; and woman presides 
over it. There is the cradle of the civilization of 
man. There is the spot, where the first elements 
are acquired of that gentleness and self-restraint, 
that tenderness for the rights and feelings of oth- 
ers, which cements mankind together, and teach 
them to make manners a part of morals. So 
powerful is the influence of woman in producing 
this state of society, that her character and condi- 
tion are the infallible measure and criterion of its 
progress. Tell me of a nation where woman is 
degraded to be the slave of man, and called to 
those toils which nature by the physical constitu- 
tion of our sex, has evidently appointed for him 
alone ; and, without any other evidence, we may 
be sure that this people has not yet emerged from 
the condition of savages. Or if we hear of a peo- 
ple among whom woman leads only a life of sen- 
sation, shut up from society, denied all mental cul- 
tivation, and all sphere for the exercise and 



248 INFLUENCE OF THE FEMALE CHARACTER. 

expansion of the best affections of the heart ; we 
may be confident that such a people cannot have 
passed, at most, that middle stage between barba- 
rity and refinement, at which the oriental nations 
have so long stagnated. But when we are told of 
a society where woman is regarded as the equal 
and companion of man, and where she is called to 
the exercise of the sympathies and virtues for 
which God and nature have formed her, we are at 
once sure that civilization, and arts, and learning, 
and refinement must have there established their 
empire. 

I do not mean to ascribe all the blessings of cul- 
tivated life to the influence of woman alone ; for 
it is not often that any great moral effect is the 
product of any single cause. But we may safely 
say that these blessings depend in so important a 
degree on her influence, and may be so much 
heightened or diminished by the improvement or 
degradation of her character, that every institution 
which tends to sustain and exalt that character de- 
mands the patronage and exertions of man for its 
support. 

The influence of woman on the intellectual 
character of the community, may not seem so great 
and obvious as upon its civilization and manners. 
One reason is, that hitherto such influence has sel- 
dom been exerted in the most direct mode of gain- 
ing celebrity — the writing of books. In our own 
age, indeed, this has almost ceased to be the case, 



INFLUENCE OF THE FEMALE CHARACTER. 249 



and if we should inquire for those persons whose 
writings for the last half century have produced 
the most practical and enduring effects, prejudice 
itself must confess that the name of more than one 
illustrious woman would adorn the catalogue. 

That the society and influence of woman has 
often prompted and refined the efforts of genius, 
may be granted by the most zealous advocate for 
the superiority of our sex. From the hallowed 
retreats of the Port Royal issued the immortal 
writings of Pascal, Nicole and Racine ; and the 
heavenly muse of Cowper had its inspiration nou- 
rished almost exclusively in the society of females. 

But whatever may be thought of the influence 
of the sex in these particulars, there is one point 
of view in which it is undeniably great and impor- 
tant. The mother of your children is necessarily 
their first instructed It is her task to watch over 
and assist their dawning faculties in their first ex- 
pansion. And can it be of light importance in 
what manner this task is performed. Will it have 
no influence on the future mental character of the 
child, whether the first lights, which enter its un- 
derstanding, are received from wisdom or folly ? 
Are there no bad mental habits, no lasting biasses, 
no dangerous associations, no deep-seated prejudi- 
ces, which can be communicated from the mother, 
the fondest object of the affection and veneration 
of the child? In fine, do the opinions of the age 
take no direction and no colouring from the mode? 
32 



250 INFLUENCE OF THE FEMALE CHARACTER. 



of thinking, which prevail among one half of the 
minds that exist on the earth ? — Unless you are will- 
ing to say either that an incalculably great amount 
of mental power is utterly wasted and thrown 
away ; or else, with a Turkish arrogance and bru- 
tality, to deny that Avoman shares with you in the 
possession of a reasoning and immortal mind, you 
must acknowledge the vast importance of the in- 
fluence, which the female sex exerts on the intel- 
lectual character of the community. 

But it is in its moral effects on the mind and 
heart of man, that the influence of woman is most 
powerful and important. In the diversity of tastes, 
habits, inclinations and pursuits of the two sexes, 
is found a most beneficent provision for controlling 
the force and extravagance of human passions. 
The objects which most strongly seize and stimu- 
late the mind of man, rarely act at the same time 
and with equal power on the mind of woman. 
While he delights in enterprize and action, and the 
exercise of the stronger energies of the soul, she 
is led to engage in calmer pursuits, and seek for 
gentler enjoyments. While he is summoned into 
the wide and busy theatre of a contentious world, 
where the love of power and the love of gain in all 
their innumerable forms occupy and tyrannize over 
the soul, she is walking in a more peaceful sphere ; 
and though I say not that these passions are al- 
ways unfelt by her, yet they lead her to the pur- 
suit of wholly different objects. The current, if 



INFLUENCE OF THE FEMALE CHARACTER. 251 



it draws its waters in both from the same source, 
moves with her not only in a narrower stream, and 
less impetuous tide, but sets also in a different di- 
rection. Hence it is that the influence of the so- 
ciety of woman is almost always to soften the 
violence of those impulses, which would otherwise 
act with so constant and fatal an influence on the 
soul of man. The domestic fireside is the great 
guardian of society against the excesses of human 
passions. When man, after his intercourse with 
the world, where alas ! he finds so much to inflame 
him with a feverous anxiety for wealth and distinc- 
tion, retires at evening to the bosom of his family, 
he finds there a repose from his tormenting cares. 
He finds something to bring him back to human 
sympathies. The tenderness of his wife and the 
caresses of his childron introduce a new train of 
softer thoughts and gentler feelings. He is re- 
minded of what constitutes the real felicity of 
man; and while his heart expands itself to the in- 
fluence of the simple and intimate delights of the 
domestic circle, the demons of avarice and ambi- 
tion, if not exorcised from his breast, at least 
for a time relax their grasp. How deplorable 
would be the consequence if all this were revers- 
ed ; and woman, instead of checking the violence of 
these passions, were to employ her blandishments 
and charms to add fuel to their rage ! How much 
wider would become the empire of guilt ! What 
a portentous and intolerable amount would be ad» 



252 INFLUENCE OF THE FEMALE CHARACTER. 

ded to the sum of the crimes and miseries of the 
human race ! 

But the influence of the female character on the 
virtue of man, is not seen merely in softening and 
restraining the violence of human passions. To her 
is mainly committed the task of pouring into the 
opening mind of infancy its first impressions of du- 
ty, and of stamping on its susceptible heart the 
first image of its God. Who will not confess the 
influence of a mother in forming the heart of a 
child ? What man is there, who cannot trace the 
origin of many of the best maxims of his life to 
the lips of her, who gave him birth? How wide, 
how lasting, how sacred is this part of woman's in- 
fluence ! Who that thinks of it, who that ascribes 
any moral effect to education, who that believes 
that any good may be produced, or any evil pre- 
vented by it, can need any arguments to prove the 
importance of the character and capacity of her, 
who gives its earliest bias to the infant mind. 

There is yet another mode in which woman 
may exert a powerful influence on the virtue of a 
community. It rests with her, in a preeminent de- 
gree, to give tone and elevation to the moral cha- 
racter of the age, by deciding the degree of virtue 
which shall be necessary to afford a passport to 
her society. The extent of this influence has ne- 
ver perhaps been fully tried ; and if the character 
of our sex is not better, it must be confessed that 
it is in no trifling degree to be ascribed to the fault 



INFLUENCE OP THE FEMALE CHARACTER, 253 

of yours. If all the favour of woman were gi- 
ven only to the good ; if it were known that the 
charms and attractions of beauty and wisdom and 
wit were reserved only for the pure ; if, in one 
word, something of a similar rigour were exerted 
to exclude the profligate and abandoned of our sex 
from your society, as is shown to those, who have 
fallen from virtue in your own — how much would 
be done to reinforce the motives to moral purity 
among us, and impress on the minds of all a reve- 
rence for the sanctity and obligations of virtue. 

The influence of woman on the moral sentiments 
of society, is intimately connected with her influ- 
ence on its religious character ; for religion and a 
pure and elevated morality must ever stand in the 
relation to each other of effect and cause. The 
heart of woman is formed for the abode of christian 
truth ; and for reasons alike honourable to her 
character and to that of the gospel. From the 
nature of Christianity, this must be so. The foun- 
dation of evangelical religion is laid in a deep and 
constant sense of the invisible presence, providence 
and influence of an infinite Spirit, who claims the 
adoration, reverence, gratitude, and love of his 
creatures. By man, busied as he is, in the cares, 
and absorbed in the pursuits of the world, this 
great truth is alas ! too often, and too easily forgot- 
ten or disregarded ; while woman, less engrossed 
by occupation, more " at leisure to be good," led 
often by her duties to retirement, at a distance 



254 INFLUENCE OF THE FEMALE CHARACTER. 



from many temptations, and endued with an ima- 
gination more easily excited and raised than man's, 
is better prepared to admit and cherish and be af- 
fected by this solemn and glorious acknowledgment 
of a God. 

Again; the gospel reveals to us a Saviour, in- 
vested with little of that brilliant and dazzling 
glory with which conquest and success would ar- 
ray him in the eyes of proud and aspiring man ; 
but rather as a meek and magnanimous sufferer^ 
clothed in all the mild and passive graces, all the 
sympathy with human woe, all the compassion for 
human frailty, all the benevolent interest in human 
welfare, which the heart of woman is formed to 
love ; together with all that solemn and superna- 
tural dignity, which the heart of woman is formed 
peculiarly to feel and to reverence. To obey the 
commands, and aspire to imitate the peculiar vir- 
tues of such a being, must always be more natural 
and easy for her than for man. 

So, too, it is with that future life which the gos- 
pel unveils, where all that is dark and doubtful in 
this shall be explained ; where penitence shall be 
forgiven, and virtue accepted ; where the tear of 
sorrow shall be dried, the wounded bosom of be- 
reavement be healed, where love and joy shall 
be unclouded and immortal. To these high and 
holy visions of faith, I trust that man is not always 
insensible; but the superior sensibility of woman, 
as it makes her feel more deeply the emptiness 



INFLUENCE OF THE FEMALE CHARACTER. 255 

and wants of human existence Iiere^ so it makes 
her welcome with more deep and ardent emotions 
the glad tidings of salvation, the thought of com- 
munion with God, the hope of the purity, happi- 
ness and peace of another and a better world. 

In this peculiar susceptibility of religion in the 
female character, who does not discern a proof of 
the benignant care of heaven of the best interests 
of man. How wise is it that she whose instruc- 
tions and example must have so powerful an in- 
fluence on the infant mind, should be formed to 
own and cherish the most sublime and important 
of truths. The vestal flame of piety lighted up 
by heaven in the breast of woman, diffuses its light 
and warmth over the world, — and dark would be 
the world if it should ever be extinguished and 
lost. 

I have hitherto spoken chiefly of the influence 
of woman, as it may be beneficially directed. 
The power to do so much good, however, undoubt- 
edly implies a corresponding power to do evil. 
The perversion of the female character is even 
more terrible than its right direction is salutary. 
The recent history of the world affords us some 
impressive illustrations of this truth. Among the 
causes of that tremendous revolution, which has 
just now reached its termination, the character of 
female society in France was not the least consi- 
derable. I refer to the entire and debasing cor- 
ruption of manners, the profanation of the mar- 



256 INFLUENCE OP THE FEMALE CHARACTER. 

riage vow, the heartless dissipation, the rejection 
of all honourable occupation and serious affection, 
which then existed, and which were but thinly con- 
cealed by the artificial polish, the ambitious wit, 
the ostentatious and superficial tinge of literature, 
which overspread them. Could indeed those foul 
barbarities, that scene of horror and of blood, 
which the mind shudders even to remember, have 
ever existed in a country, where woman had not 
lost the character of her sex, and man, having 
learned to despise and reject her influence, had not 
sunk down again to the ferocity of the savage state ? 
Other causes were no doubt in operation ; but I 
am persuaded that no more powerful cause of 
these excesses existed, than the degradation and 
perversion of the female character and influence. 
Indeed, when woman ceases to be that pure and 
gentle being which nature intended her to be ; 
when she ceases to overawe profligacy, and to win 
and shame man into decency, fidelity, and love of 
unsullied virtue ; what else is to be expected, than 
that the influence so powerful to strengthen and 
refine and elevate society, should operate entirely 
to its corruption and debasement ; that domestic 
happiness and private honour should be extinguish- 
ed, the restraints and checks of public opinion be 
broken up and annihilated, the last barriers of vir- 
tue, religion and humanity thrown down, and a flood 
of misery and crimes admitted, to overwhelm all 
that is salutary and fair in the condition of society. 



INFLUENCE OF THE FEMALE CHARACTER. 257 

I have thus slightly and inadequately surveyed 
the influence of the female character. We see 
that the manners, the intellectual, the moral and 
the religious character, in one word, the best inte- 
rests of man, are most intimately connected with 
the dignity, the purity, the intelligence and virtue 
of the female mind. 

This view of the importance of jour sex has 
been presented to you, my friends, not, I trust you 
will believe, to feed your self-complacency, but to 
remind you of your high duties. It is a call upon 
you to reverence yourselves as the guardians and 
instructers of mankind. It is a reply to those idle 
suggestions, which have sometimes been made, 
that even in christian lands the condition of woman 
is degraded, by the denial to her of that share of 
influence, and of those equal rights, for which na- 
ture intended her. Compare the condition and 
pursuits of the mass of men with those of woman, 
and tell me on which side lies the inferiority. While 
the greater part of our sex are engaged in turning* 
up the clods of the earth, fashioning the materials 
which are to supply the physical wants of our race, 
exchanging the products of the industry of diffe- 
rent countries, toiling amidst the perils of war and 
the tumults of politics, to you is committed the no- 
bler task of moulding the infant mind ; it is for 
you to give their character to succeeding ages; it 
is yours to control the stormy passions of man, to 
inspire him with those sentiments which subdue 
33 



258 INFLUENCE OF THE FEMALE CHARACTER. 

his ferocity, and make his heart gentle and soft ; 
it is yours to open to him the truest and purest 
sources of happiness, and prompt him to the love 
and reverence of virtue and religion. A wife — 
a mother ! How sacred, how venerable these 
names ! What nobler object can the most aspir- 
ing ambition propose to itself, than to fulfil the du- 
ties which these relations imply! Instead of mur- 
muring that your field of influence is so narrow, my 
friends, should you not rather tremble at the mag- 
nitude and sacredness of your responsibility ? When 
you demand of man a higher education than has 
hitherto been often given you, and claim to drink 
from the same wells of knowledge as himself, 
should it not be, that you may be thus enabled, 
not to rush into that sphere which nature has 
marked for him, but to move more worthily and 
gracefully within your own. 

But I am aware that I am not addressing those 
by whom these considerations have been overlook- 
ed. It is the testimony of a profound and saga- 
cious traveller, who has observed every variety of 
civilized life, that the females of New England 
are distinguished above all others for their person- 
al care of their offspring. What exalted praise is 
this! My heart swells with exultation to believe 
that my countrywomen merit it. It is a far nobler 
eulogy than if it were said of you that you were 
nursed by the graces, encircled with the cestus of 
the queen of beauty, and that all the muses had 



INFLUENCE OF THE FEMALE CHARACTER. 259 

poured their inspiration into your minds. Prize 
that praise, my friends. It is the richest gem 
which can adorn you. Seek to add nothing more 
to it, than that as you are more distinguished for 
your care, you are also more qualified to bestow it. 
Let it be said of you, that you prefer the virtues 
of the female character for your children, before 
its accomplishments, their minds before their bo- 
dies, and above all, that it is your chief care, to 
pour into their hearts and understandings the pure 
illuminations of the gospel of Christ, in all its sim- 
plicity, loveliness, and power. 

But in the interesting little group, which your 
humanity has brought together, I see a striking 
proof that you feel your duties as christians. I 
hail it as a pledge that you have that enlarged be- 
nevolence of the gospel which interests you, not 
only in your own offspring, but in all the children 
of want and sorrow. You will continue, I doubt 
not, in the good work of mercy and love which 
you have begun ; and grow even more zealous in 
it. You will feel towards these little ones the re- 
sponsibility of parents, and seek to bring them up 
in those habits of industry, sobriety, prudence, 
foresight, virtue and religion, which will make them 
hereafter useful to society. Go on then, my 
friends, to fulfil your high and honourable vocation. 
Your children, and these children of your pity too, 
shall rise up and call you blessed — blessed as the 
instruments of heaven's bounty, blessed as the 



260 INFLUENCE OF THE FEMALE CHARACTER. 

guardians and ministers of human virtue and hap- 
piness ; blest even in this life — how eternally, how 
unspeakably blest in another ! 

I turn now to ask all who have assembled on 
this occasion, and to ask you with confidence, my 
friends, to lend your aid to the exertions of these 
pious and benevolent females. If you acknowledge 
with me the importance of the character of the 
female sex to mankind, you will need no other ar- 
gument to convince you of the value of this cha- 
rity. It is its noble object to rescue these tender 
orphans, not merely from suffering, but from ne- 
glect and degradation ; to make their future influ- 
ence on society the influence of virtue and inno- 
cence and intelligence, instead of the influence of 
ignorance and perhaps of depravity. Think not 
lightly of their importance, because their future 
condition in society will probably be humble. 
In our country it is absurd to talk of any other 
distinction of ranks than is given by distinction of 
character. We are all so necessarily connected 
together by our political institutions, that each class 
of society acts and reacts on all the rest ; and it is not 
possible that one part should be degraded and cor- 
rupt, without extending its malignant influence to the 
rest. You are not less interested, therefore, in the 
character of those w hom these little ones are hereaf- 
ter to influence, than in that of those, whom you 
regard as your companions in life. As then the 
peace and happiness of society depend on the vir- 



INFLUENCE OF THE FEMALE CHARACTER. 261 

tue and intelligence of its members ; and as, if you 
make woman enlightened and pure, you make man 
virtuous and good, I might call on your self-love 
as well as your benevolence, to impart your aid to 
this institution. 

But if all this were otherwise, still I could not 
endure to hear that these children had a light 
claim upon you, because born to obscure and hum- 
ble life. Have they not souls as worthy of culti- 
vation, as immortal as your own ? Can you abandon 
them to misery, perhaps to ruin, because they are 
not born to the comforts with which you and your 
children are blessed ? Was it their crime to be 
so early deprived of a parent's tenderness and 
care ; or to find their parents, if spared to them, 
unable to save them from suffering and want ? 
Are you sure that by no conceivable revolution of 
this changing life, some whom you so tenderly love, 
may be reduced to need a similar compassion, with 
no other claim upon it than these little ones now 
advance ?— " To the poor the gospel is preached." 
The Son of God disdained not to utter the glad 
sounds of salvation and hope to souls like these. 
And shall we find nothing to move us in such an 
example ? 

I beseech you, in the name of that affectionate 
Saviour, who died for us all ; of him, who carries 
the lambs in his arms and folds them in his bosom ; 
of him, who if he were now on earth would say, 
" Suffer these little children to come unto me, and 



262 INFLUENCE OF THE FEMALE CHARACTER. 

forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of 
heaven — I beseech you in the name of him who 
commanded us to be " merciful as our Father in 
heaven is merciful," now to prove yourselves wor- 
thy to be his disciples. Then will the recollection 
of this evening's bounty come over your memory 
with a sweet and consolatory influence. These 
children, and the widowed sufferers who will share 
your bounty, will rise up, and call you blessed. 
Their prayers will ascend for you to the throne 
where mercy dwells ; and after a course of piety 
and benevolence on earth, their voices will join the 
acclamations of angels, and hail you among the 
eternally blessed in the happiness of heaven and 
with the presence of your God. 



SERMON XXI 



ON LEAVING THE OLD CHURCH, 

PSALM XXVI. 8. 

Lord, 1 have loved the habitation of thine house, and 
the place where thine honour dwelleth. 

To any man, with whom devotion is a sentiment of 
the heart as well as a dictate of the understand- 
ing, and who has therefore the idea of pleasure 
as well as that of duty connected with social wor- 
ship, these words of the Psalmist will need no ex- 
planation. By a well known and universal law of 
our nature, our attachment to whatever gives us 
pleasure embraces all its accidental concomitants; 
and the truly devout worshipper not only takes 
delight in the act of adoration itself, but extends 
some degree of his complacency to those who ha- 
bitually unite with him in it ; to the voice which 
leads his devotions, and even to the place which is 
wont to be the scene of them. With the idea of 
the house of worship is associated the recollection 
of the purposes to which it is devoted, the bless- 



264 ON LEAVING THE OLD CHURCH. 

ings and consolations of religion, the hope of the 
favour of God, of communion with Christ, and of 
the pure and immortal happiness of a better world. 
Thus, with every mind of religious sensibility, a 
degree of dignity and even sanctity is imparted to 
every spot, however humble, which is consecrated 
to the service of God. 

These feelings are not confined to those who 
are familiar with the deep and solemn plea- 
sures of devotion. Jill who are accustomed 
habitually to attend public worship, especially 
if they have done it from early youth, in some 
degree partake of them. They may indeed some- 
times be so faint, that we are hardly aware that 
they exist at all, till we find them, as we now do, 
about to be interrupted. I suppose there is not 
one among us wholly unaffected by the thought, 
that this house, hallowed by the prayers of our 
forefathers, and so long the scene of our weekly 
worship, is about to be resigned to ruin. It is true 
that the liberal and rational genius of our religion 
has taught us that God is not worshipped in this 
place, or in Jerusalem, alone; that it is the spiritu- 
ality and truth of our services, not the place or the 
manner of them, which makes them acceptable ; and 
that wherever he records his name, there he will 
come unto his people and bless them. It is true 
also that our leaving this house at this time is vo- 
luntary ; that all of us either originally felt, or else, 
by a generous surrender of individual judgment to 
the general opinion, are now led to acquiesce in 



ON LEAVING THE OLD CHURCH. 265 

the propriety of this measure. Yet still, notwith- 
standing we all believe and hope that this house is 
to fall only to give place to one more commodious, 
and more suited to the dignity of public worship, 
there are none of us who can think with absolute 
indifference that we meet within these walls for 
the last time. c; There are few things," it has been 
said, " not purely evil, of which we can say without 
some emotion of uneasiness, this is the last. Those, 
who never could agree together, shed tears, when 
mutual discontent has determined them to a final 
separation; and of a place, which has been fre- 
quently visited, though without pleasure, the last 
look is taken with heaviness of heart." " We al- 
ways make a secret comparison between a part 
and the whole ; the termination of any period of 
life reminds us, that life itself has its termination ; 
when we have done any thing for the last time, 
we involuntarily reflect that a part of the days al- 
lotted to us is past, and that as more is past, there 
is less remaining." 

This occasion then is fertile of remarks, which 
though common, and some of them melancholy, are 
yet of a salutary tendency. I shall endeavour to 
suggest some of them to your remembrance, with- 
out any very scrupulous attention to the order in 
which they are offered. 

1. In taking leave of this ancient edifice, we are 
naturally led, in the first place, to think of its origi- 
nal founders. Its annals commence in the year 
34 



266 ON LEAVING THE OLD CHURCH. 

1715; and we find that the spot on which this 
church now stands, had at that period been so 
long designed for a place of religious worship, un- 
der the name of " Church Green" that the tradition 
was probably lost of the time when it was thus ap- 
propriated. As but seventy-nine years had then 
passed since the first settlement of the town, we 
may fairly conclude that it was among the earliest 
acts of the original settlers to mark out this spot 
for the service of God. 

We are led therefore to think of the labours 
and virtues of those noble and venerable men, be- 
fore whom the founders of every other nation fade 
into insignificance ; men, over whose minds religion 
exercised so powerful a sway, that its honour and 
its interests were ever first in their thoughts ; men, 
who were so far elevated above the ordinary mo- 
tives of human action, that conscience was ever to 
them the supreme law ; who feared nothing but 
the displeasure of the Almighty, and who were 
ready for every sacrifice in the cause of truth and 
virtue. There is something refreshing in merely 
thinking of such men. We feel our natures enno- 
bled by being allowed to claim kindred with them. 
I know that they were not faultless. It is true, 
that from their dread and detestation of popery, 
which had been the recent cause of so many wars 
and persecutions, some of their religious sentiments 
had contracted a too austere and polemical cast ; 
and it is not surprising that in common with all Eu- 



ON LEAVING THE OLD CHURCH. 



267 



rope, they had not yet learned the refined princi- 
ples of religious toleration. But when we call up 
the recollection of them, and exhort you to become 
better by their example, it is not implied that you 
are to adopt all or any of their views, without ex- 
amination. It would be, in truth, to falsify our de- 
scent from them,, if we should put our minds into 
the shackles even of their opinions ; if under 
pretence of proving their attainments, we should 
become indifferent about our own ; and should 
abandon their spirit while we boasted their names. 
We show the truest reverence to them, when we 
do with regard to them as they did with regard to 
their fathers ; examine their opinions with respect, 
but still with freedom and independence ; make 
the best use in our power of the lights and aids, in 
many respects, no doubt, superiour to theirs, which 
Providence has put into our hands; draw, like 
them, all our sentiments from the Scriptures alone, 
and then be faithful like them to the dictates of 
conscience, whatever they may be. 

2. Another sentiment which is naturally inspired 
on leaving this house, is that of gratitude for the 
favours of heaven toward this religious community. 
Its annals are short and simple. There was 
nothing of the spirit of schism in the origin 
of this church ; and its progress has never been 
marked by any controversy with any other. Its 
history affords a pleasing proof of the success of 
the great experiment, never fairly made in any 



268 



ON LEAVING THE OLD CHURCH. 



other country, whether man may not be safely 
trusted with a greater degree of religious liberty 
than has ever before been granted. The spirit of 
this church has always been peaceful and liberal. 
The terms of church communion have never been 
narrow and exclusive. Our records display a very 
remarkable degree of unanimity in almost all im- 
portant measures. Your pastors have been elect- 
ed without dissension ; and no permanent root of 
bitterness has ever sprung up to trouble you. Is 
it not then a cause of gratitude, that the religion of 
Christ, a religion so simple, practicable, reasonable, 
divine, so full of the most ennobling principles, and 
hopes so perfectly adapted to the condition and 
wants of our nature, has for a century of years 
been here preached in security and peace ; that 
we are permitted to hope, that many hearts have 
here been gladdened by its tidings of great joy ; 
many consciences roused to reflection by its mo- 
tives ; many passions regulated, lusts subdued, and 
virtues nourished and sustained by its influence ; 
many sorrows assuaged by its consolations ; and 
many souls fitted by it for a purer world. 

My friends, we ought not to forget, that the pri- 
vilege of hearing such truths as have here been 
preached, however lightly we may have priz- 
ed them, and with whatever insufficient ability 
they may at times have been uttered, is one which 
was not granted to kings and prophets, to philoso- 
phers and sages of other times. In order proper- 



ON LEAVING THE OLD CHURCH. 



269 



ly to estimate it, you must think of the moral con- 
dition of those lands over which ignorance broods, 
and superstition waves her torch of cruelty and 
terror ; where God is not known in any thing of 
the truth and loveliness of his character; where 
the altars of idolatry smoke with bloody sacrifices, 
and a system of senseless and demoralizing rites 
and ceremonies are the substitutes for piety, virtue 
and benevolence. You must think even of those 
Christian countries, where the light of the gospel 
is so imperfectly enjoyed; where its purity and sim- 
plicity are marred by so many corruptions; where 
an ambitious and immoral priesthood find their in- 
terest in keeping the human mind in darkness, and 
conscience in chains. Have we not cause then, 
my brethren, when we think of these things, to 
bless God for the religious privileges, which our 
fathers have here enjoyed, and the rich inheritance 
of which they have transmitted to their children. 

3. While we thus think of the favours of God 
to this church, and are grateful for our share of 
them, we are each called to inquire what account 
we can give of the use which we have made of them. 
Look back, my friends, on the hours passed within 
these consecrated walls. — You, particularly, whose 
infancy was here dedicated to God ; who here first 
joined in public adoration of Him ; who have here 
so long heard of his providence and perfections, of 
Christ and eternity, of holiness and piety, of your 
duty and expectations. How have your privileges 



270 



ON LEAVING THE OLD CHURCH. 



been improved? Can you hope that the great 
purpose of all religious institutions has been in any 
degree answered ? Has the gospel had any thing 
of its proper influence, its regenerating and sancti- 
fying influence, on your hearts and lives ? Has it 
ever waked in you the sentiment of gratitude to 
God ; of disinterested kindness and good-will to 
man ? Has it ever lessened this world in your re- 
gard? Has it ever made you feel penitence and 
abhorrence for sin, taught you to love goodness, 
and inspired you with desires after a world of 
purity ? And if you can humbly hope that these 
effects have in some good degree been produced, 
still have you not cause to lament that many of 
your hours here have not been more profitably 
spent ? Can you not remember many cold and 
mechanical, many forced and lifeless services ? 
While God has been upon your lips, has not mam- 
mon been sometimes in your hearts ? Has not 
your motive for coming here been too often only 
to comply with habit and usage; to be amused 
perhaps, and occupied by the discourses here de- 
livered, or to pass your verdict on their merits or 
defects ? Have you not sometimes, instead of ap- 
propriating the admonitions of the preacher to 
yourselves, and seeking to become better under his 
reproofs, employed yourselves only in considering 
how closely they apply to the failings of your 
neighbour ; and thus instead of using the instruc- 
tions of the sanctuary as a means of personal holi- 



ON LEAVING THE OLD CHURCH. 



271 



ness, turned them into nutriment for private ma- 
lignity ? In one word, can you say that the means 
of grace, which have here been furnished you, 
have been employed, as they ought to have been, 
in fortifying you against the temptations of the 
world, and the seductions of sense and appetite ; 
in enabling you to gather new strength to your 
good principles; in making ycu more vigorous in 
your warfare against sin, and more conscientious in 
the discharge of your christian duties ? 

But, my friends, when I speak of the sins which 
this house has witnessed, I do not mean that they 
have all been confined to you ! He who speaks to 
you could also tell of languor, and want of interest 
and zeal in his duties ; of too low a sense of his 
responsibility to God; of too much regard to your 
approbation and favour. Ah, my friends! the re- 
collection of too many broken and polluted and 
unworthy services must now force itself upon the 
minds of us all, and ought to send a pang of sincere 
contrition to our hearts. Let us pray to God to for- 
give us for every opportunity which we have here 
neglected. Let us examine ourselves fairly. If 
we have never been faithful to ourselves before, 
let us be so now. Let this house witness at least 
one act of conscientious self-inquiry. Let there be 
at least some moments spent here, which God will 
approve and bless. Let us not leave this temple 
without resolving that by the grace of God we will 
not enter another, without better dispositions for 



272 



ON LEAVING THE OLD CHURCH. 



improvement, and a deeper sense of our account- 
ability for our privileges. 

4. The consideration that we shall never again 
assemble within these walls either for the usual 
duties of the sabbath, or to celebrate the love 
of the Saviour at his table, gives to us a les- 
son of the change and decay to Avhich all things 
are subject. Our best exertions could have re- 
tarded but for a few vears the ruin to which 
this temple is about to be resigned ; and which 
must ere long overspread all terrestrial objects. 
Time rolls its dark and desolating tide over 
all the monuments of human art and industry ; it 
spares not even the altars of piety, but sweeps 
away all things in indiscriminate destruction. It is 
the fixed and unalterable law of nature that the 
fashion of this world should pass away, and that 
man, its temporary sovereign, should pass away 
with it. Well then ! let them pass away. He 
who made the world, and all the actors therein, 
knows best what is wise and fit to order concern- 
ing them. But it ought to console us, that with 
the perishable materials of which this inanimate 
world and our earthly tabernacle are composed, 
God has not destined our nobler souls to decay and 
oblivion. He has fitted them for a scene of true 
and permanent honour, of sublime and pure enjoy- 
ment, of never-ending improvement ; and has de- 
posited with us the means and the power of secur- 
ing to ourselves this glorious reversion. While 
therefore, we contemplate the vicissitudes and 



ON LEAVING THE OLD CHURCH. 



273 



changes of the world, let us learn to value things 
according to a better standard than that of a life, 
which has nothing fixed but the unperishable cha- 
racters of piety and virtue. While we think of 
the desolation that is about to overtake these 
walls, let us not forget that in this world we too 
have no continuing city. And as the language of 
Providence respecting our ancient edifice is this — 
" Arise and depart, for this is not your rest — so 
likewise are we admonished by the Almighty in 
his word, — Be ye also ready." Let your lamp be 
trimmed and burning ; for ye must all appear be- 
fore the judgment seat of Christ. 

In taking our parting look of these venerable 
walls, I cannot wonder that many of you, even 
though desirous that this event should take place* 
should still feel some strong emotions of regret for 
its necessity. Some of you must call to mind that 
it was here your infancy was devoted to God at 
the baptismal font, and that here you have conti- 
nued to worship till time has silvered your heads 
with the honours of age ; that it was here you 
felt your first and strongest impressions of religious 
duty; that here you have named the name of 
Christ, and solemnly expressed your resolutions to 
depart from iniquity. It is impossible, too, in think- 
ing of the scenes through which you have passed, 
not to call to mind the fond recollection of many, 
who once partook with you in your sacred privi- 
leges, with whom you were accustomed to take 
35 



274 ON LEAVING THE OLD CHURCH. 

sweet counsel, and walk to this house of God in 
company. The places which once knew them, now 
know them no more. Yet busy imagination again 
peoples the seats which they were wont to occupy, 
with their dear and honoured forms. The be- 
reaved husband seems for a moment again to be- 
hold the departed wife of his bosom ; the widowed 
wife again to behold her stay and counsellor and 
friend ; the loved image of the sister rises to the 
affectionate remembrance of the brother, and the 
sister thinks again of her lost brothers virtues ; 
the child once more looks on his venerated parent 
and guide, and the parent recals again the sweet 
smiles of the tender infant, or the maturer graces 
of the child whom he had hoped was to be the 
ornament and joy of his declining years. 

But, my beloved friends, let not these imagina- 
tions be indulged merely to gratify the luxury of 
grief. Let us think of the virtues of the friends 
who are gone, not to lament that they are trans- 
lated to kindred spheres, but that we may be in- 
cited to imitate them in our lives, to purify our 
minds from all inordinate sublunary desires, and to 
endear a better and purer world to our hearts. 

Nor can he who speaks to you remember with- 
out some sensibility that he occupies this sacred 
desk for the last time. He cannot forget that it 
was here that he was separated to the work of 
the ministry of Christ ; that here the vows of 
God were imposed on him ; that his life was here 



OX LEAVING THE OLD CHURCH. 



275 



devoted to your service for Jesus' sake ; that he 
has here baptized and instructed your children ; 
and that he has never here seen a countenance 
which was not turned on him with most unmerited 
kindness and indulgence. God forgive the many 
defects and imperfections of his services, and grant 
that what in them has been right, may not have 
been wholly performed in vain. 

May God grant his blessing upon you during 
your partial and temporary separation from each 
other. May he prosper all your wishes and de- 
signs for the honour of his worship. And if it 
should be too much to expect, in this world of 
mortality, that you should all be permitted to re- 
sume your seats, still may it be granted that we 
may all be reunited, if not in an earthly temple, 
yet in those mansions of bliss, that our Saviour has 
gone before to prepare for the just in heaven. 

But it is time that we should bid farewell to 
these walls, so long the silent witnesses of our 
worship, now no more to be filled with the sounds 
of adoration or the hymns of praise. Farewell to 
this sacred desk, where Checkley, Bowen, Howe 
and Everett have preached and prayed. I need 
not add another name to this list, nor say with 
what affection you regard it. — But does there then, 
remain nothing more for us to perform within this 
temple ? Can nothing more be here done which 
heaven will approve ? Yes, my friends, you are 
invited to make one more sacrifice on the altar of 



276 ON LEAVING THE OLD CHURCH. 

charity. You may mark your departure from this 
house by a deed of beneficence. Let your last 
be your best and purest service. Let the angel of 
mercy bear an honourable record of your bounty on 
high. Remember that the poor are a legacy left you 
by your Saviour ; and that he has told you,that a cup 
of cold water given to one of his disciples in the 
true spirit of charity, shall in no wise lose its reward. 
And how can I better close the instructions, which 
for so long a period of years have been given from 
this place, than by repeating the gracious words 
which his true disciples shall hear again from his 
lips at the last day ; " Come, ye blessed of my 
Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from 
the foundation of the world. For I was an hun- 
gred, and ye gave me meat ; I was thirsty, and ye 
gave me drink ; I was a stranger, and ye took me 
in ; naked, and ye clothed me ; sick, and ye visited 
me ; in prison, and ye came unto me. Verily I say 
unto you ; inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of 
the least of these my brethren, ye have done it 
unto me." 



SERMON XXII.* 



DEDICATION OF THE NEW CHURCH. 
I PETER, III. 15. 

Be ready always to give an answer to every man that 
asketh you a reason of the hope, that is in you, 
with meekness and fear. 

Christianity is a religion addressed to the reason 
of man. Look around you, my friends, on this 
temple, which we have now assembled to dedicate 
to the purposes of christian worship, and see how 
every thing proclaims, that the religion we profess 
makes its appeal only to our nobler nature. Here 
is no pomp of a gorgeous and imposing ceremonial. 
Here no altar smokes with the blood of victims ; 
no incense fills the air with its perfume. No priest 
is here claiming a mysterious sanctity, as the in- 

*The title page of this discourse, as printed by Mr. Thacher, was as 
follows : " An Apology for rational and evangelical Christianity ; A Dis- 
course at the Dedication of a new Church on Church Green, Summer Street, 
Boston. To which are added Notes and Illustrations. By Samuel Cooper 
Thacher." Mr. Thacher's Preface is now printed at the close of the ser- 
mon, immediately preceding the notes. 



278 



DEDICATION OF THE NEW CHURCH. 



spired depositary of the will of heaven. No dar- 
ing hand has here attempted to represent to the 
senses the awful person of the Being we adore ; 
or even to suggest through them to the imagination 
the most distant image of his ineffable glory. All 
here is simple. All is intellectual. All announces, 
that the God, whom the christian worships, is 
a spirit, and is to be worshipped only in spirit and 
in truth. The gospel, we see, disdains to owe its 
influence to the fears of a superstitious temper, or 
the enthusiasm of a heated fancy. It requires of 
us only a reasonable service. It demands no tri- 
bute, but the homage of the understanding. It 
accepts no incense, but the secret sigh of the brok- 
en and contrite heart. Our bodies, purified from 
all guilty passions, are the only victims, it calls us 
to present on its altars; and it is the fire of divine 
charity alone, which descends from heaven to con- 
sume our spiritual holocaust. 

Christianity, then, is a religion addressed solely 
to the intellectual and moral nature of man. Our 
text implies this truth, when it directs us never to 
decline to submit the grounds of our christian hope 
to the tribunal of enlightened reason. It teaches 
also, that we are not to be indifferent to the man- 
ner in which our fellow men regard our religious 
sentiments ; and this obligation, I conceive, extends 
not only from christians to unbelievers, but from 
one christian to another. There exist — it is but 
too well known— among the different communities 



DEDICATION OF THE NEW CHURCH. 



279 



of christians, some peculiar modes of regarding the 
truths of the gospel ; and it is fitting, according to 
the spirit of our text, that we should be ready to 
justify these modes of thinking to our fellow-be- 
lievers. The occasion of entering, for the first time, 
this sacred edifice, has seemed to me a more ap- 
propriate one, than usually occurs, for offering some 
explanations of what may be thought the peculia- 
rities of those, who worship here, as well as of a 
large class of christians throughout the world. 
They have been, I am persuaded, not a little mis- 
understood ; and some observations, though of 
course very general ones, on the leading features 
of them, may help to lessen, if not to remove, 
some unhappy prejudices, and to enlarge the mu- 
tual charity of christians. Nothing, however, can 
be more remote from my intentions, than to assail 
the conscientious belief of others, except so far as 
this may seem to be necessarily done by simply 
vindicating our own. Sorry indeed should I be, if 
the sounds first heard within these walls should be 
those of animosity ; or should seem to breathe any 
note, which, however otherwise un worth y, might 
not accord with those celestial strains, which first 
announced peace on earth and good will to men. 

1. Allow me then to make a preliminary obser- 
vation ; and it is this; that we humbly trust, that 
we do agree with the great company of the disci- 
ples of our Lord in every age, in resting on the 
same foundation, on which all christian faith i* 



280 DEDICATION OF THE NEW CHURCH. 

built. We believe, as they do, in one great Au- 
thor, Supporter, and Controller of the universe, in 
his nature infinite, in all his attributes perfect, in 
all his perfections harmonious, the object, the only 
object, of the supreme worship, reverence, grati- 
tude, trust, love of all his creatures. We believe, 
as they do, that this glorious Being has sanctified 
and sent into the world his beloved Son, to redeem 
our race from iniquity; to secure to them the hope 
of pardon; to elevate the human mind by the in- 
fluence of truth and virtue ; and thus to ripen it 
for higher powers and more exalted blessedness in 
heaven. We believe, that on him the spirit of the 
Almighty was poured without measure ; that he 
received all that was necessary to make him our 
perfect guide, our all-sufficient Saviour, and that 
to all who repent, believe and obey, he is made of 
God wisdom and righteousness and sanctification 
and redemption. His words are to us, as the words 
of God; his commands, as the commands of God. 
We honour the Son, as we honour the Father, who 
sent him. The truths, which he taught, we be- 
lieve to be contained in the holy scriptures ; and 
we take them as the authoritative record of the 
facts, principles, doctrines, precepts and sanctions 
of our religion. We receive and freely rest our 
hopes of salvation on what they teach us, as con- 
stituting christian faith and practice. In professing 
this belief, as we do in sincerity and without the 
smallest reserve, we hope we may put in a humble 



DEDICATION OF THE i\E\V CHURCH. 281 

claim to the name of christians ; and may unpre- 
sumptuously say with the apostle, if any man trust 
to himself that he is Christ's, let him of himself 
think this again, that as he is Christ's even so are 
we Christ's. We doubtless may err — who may 
not err ? — in our interpretations of the sacred vo- 
lume ; but, if it be so, it is our understandings, we 
trust, not our hearts, which are in fault. One 
thing, at least, will hardly be denied, that however 
much the religious structures of different commu- 
nions of christians may vary in form, proportion, 
congruity, harmony and beauty, the foundation and 
the materials of all that is serious and practical in 
their Christianity must be essentially the same as 
that which we have adopted. 

Undoubtedly however — though we hope we do 
thus fundamentally agree with all the sincere dis- 
ciples of our Lord in every nation and age — we 
have some characteristic and not unimportant 
modes of viewing the theory of our religion. Our 
interpretations of the scriptures, any more than 
those of any other single body of christians, do not 
agree in all respects with those of all the rest. 
On these peculiarities I now proceed to remark. 

II. 1. I conceive, that the chief characteristic 
of those christians, in whose name I now presume 
to speak, arises from the view we take of the sen- 
timent contained in our text and other similar pas- 
sages of the scriptures. Christianity we believe to 
36 



282 DEDICATION OF THE NEW CHURCH. 

be, in the truest sense, a rational religion.* The 
truths it unfolds conform, we think, to the intellec- 
tual and moral nature of man ; are consistent each 
with itself; w T ith one another; with the dictates 
of conscience, and with the maxims of truth, 
which the universal reason of man acknowledges 
and respects, They harmonize, in one word, with 
the best conclusions and results of those faculties, 
which God has given us for discerning truth. — Let 
not our meaning, however, be misunderstood. We 
neither say, that the truths of Christianity were, or 
ever would have been discovered by reason, unas- 
sisted by revelation ; nor that the objects, to which 
these truths relate, can now all be comprehended 
by reason in all their extent ; nor that they are all 
necessarily founded on facts, which conform to 
analogies within our present knowledge. Least of 
all does reason, in our view of it, advance any 
claim in opposition to revelation. We say only, 
that reason is, equally with revelation, the gift of 
God ; and that both are given for purposes per- 
fectly consistent and harmonious/)" We say, that 
as revelation continually appeals to reason for 
its proofs, and its conformity to sound reason is an 
important part of its evidence, a clear and decided 
repugnance and contrariety to reason in any of its 
doctrines would be so far an argument against its 
truth. We therefore believe, that the truths of the 



*Note A. 



t Note B. 



DEDICATION OF THE NEW CHURCH. 



283 



christian religion do contain and can contain noth- 
ing, which enlightened reason after full and serious 
inquiry does not approve. The gospel and a sound 
philosophy, right reason and a revelation from God 
must be in perfect harmony, can never really and 
essentially disagree. 

It is difficult to conceive, how any one should 
fail to see that this must be so, who considers the 
nature and use of our rational faculties. They are 
the organs for admitting all truth into the mind ; 
and an intelligent belief of revelation is no more 
possible without the use of reason, than sight is 
possible without the organ of vision. Religious 
faith, then, instead of being opposed to reason, is 
in truth the highest exercise of reason. This is 
practically felt to be so true, that, when men pro- 
fess to believe what is opposed to reason, it is only 
by bringing themselves to imagine, that they have 
in some way found a sufficient reason for renouncing 
the use of reason. And thus we see the extreme 
of scepticism and the extreme of credulity meet 
and unite in the common absurdity of using reason 
to destroy all confidence in reason. — But our Ma- 
ker, we may be sure, will never contradict himself 
in his own works. Having given us reason, as the 
faculty for discerning truth, he will do nothing, 
which shall confound and subvert the uses of his 
gift. He will not say one thing to us in nature, and 
a different thing in revelation ; but as the truths 
both of reason and revelation flow ultimately from 



284 DEDICATION OF THE NEW CHURCH. 

the same source, they will be consistent with 
themselves and with every other truth. 

But indeed, my friends, to assert seriously, that 
Christianity is not consistent with the best dictates 
of reason, what is it but to offer to God's word 
the deepest dishonour ? It is to degrade its evi- 
dence to a level with that of the religion of Ma- 
homet, or the dreams and fictions of the impostors 
and fanatics of every age.* It is in effect, to say, 
that its proofs depend on the internal sensations of 
every one who receives it ; a ground of belief in 
which we are always exposed to the grossest self- 
deception, which we certainly can never exhibit to 
other men, and therefore can never obey the di- 
rection of the apostle in the text ; and which may be 
pleaded alike, and is alike unanswerable, whether 
urged by wisdom or folly, learning or ignorance, 
honesty or fraud. Such a representation was ne- 
ver learned in the school of the Author and Fi- 
nisher of our faith. The New Testament is full 
of appeals to our perceptions of right and wrong; 
and every argument it contains is in itself a distinct 
refutation of the idea, that our faith is to supersede 
the uses or falsify the conclusions of reason. Eve- 
ry miracle our Lord performed, every prophecy 
to which ha referred, was a call on those around 
him to exercise their reason. No. The religion 
of Christ is one, which not only permits, but re- 

* Note C. \ 



DEDICATION OF THE NEW CHURCH. 285 



quires us to prove all things, and hold fast only 
what is true. Let it not then be reproached with 
elevating itself on the ruins of human reason. Li- 
bel it not, I beseech you, by so unworthy a charge. 
Betray it not into the hands of infidelity by throw- 
ing away those arms, which the most exalted rea- 
son rejoices to supply for its defence. 

But do we then raise the authority of reason so 
high, as to deny our need of the aids and irradia- 
tions of the holy spirit of God ? I trust, my friends, 
that this is far from being true. Our principles 
leave this doctrine unimpaired to be believed in 
its most consolatory form. We say only, that these 
gracious influences will be vouchsafed to us, in con- 
sistency with the other gifts of God, by the in- 
strumentality of regular means; and that they will 
guide and exalt, not supersede and confound our 
rational faculties. — Do not object to us still, that 
our views nourish a temper of pride and presump- 
tuous confidence in human reason, fatal to a hum- 
ble sense of our dependence on God. Our de- 
pendence on God is absolute and entire. If any 
man will show me in what way this sentiment can 
be more fully expressed, I will adopt his language 
and renounce my own. We differ from those, who 
make this objection — if we differ from them at all — 
only in going farther than they do in our belief of 
this truth. We believe that we depend entirely 
on God for ordinary as well as extraordinary bles- 
sings ; not merelv for the special influences of his 



286 DEDICATION OF THE NEW CHURCH. 

spirit ; but also, quite as much, for every moment's 
use of the faculty of reason. But, indeed, if the 
comparison is forced on us, we may venture to ask, 
which belief is most likely to enkindle a spirit of 
presumption — that we have received the gift of 
reason in common with our fellow beings, and that 
the means and aids for enlightening and elevating 
it, are alike open to all, who sincerely seek and 
faithfully use them ? — or that belief, which teacl> 
es a man, that he is the selected favourite of hea- 
ven, and enjoys those miraculous infusions of the 
divine spirit, which are denied to the honest and 
intelligent exertions and prayers of his fellow men? 
In truth, when I think of this latter opinion, I am 
constrained to say, that it seems to me, that it may 
claim any other praise sooner, than that of being 
founded in or promoting the humility of the gos- 
pel.* 

2. On grounds like these, and in the sense now 
explained, we believe that christianitj is a rational 
religion. This belief produces an anxiety, that, in 
all our statements and exhibitions of its doctrines, 
their rationality should be made apparent. This 
is, in part, the origin of that difference of phrase- 
ology and of those different modes of stating the 
same truths, which are often remarked, and which 
form perhaps the most striking difference between 
us and some of our fellow christians, who feel this 



* Note D. 



DEDICATION OF THE NEW CHURCH. 287 

anxiety less strongly, than we do. We vindicate 
this peculiarity by the consideration, that it is re- 
quired by the constant changes, which are taking 
place in the force and meaning of all language, and 
by that obscurity, with which time is ever incrust- 
ing the words and illustrations of elder days. It is 
an obsolete phraseology, we think, which causes 
many sentiments, essentially true and perfectly 
simple, to be involved in a dark, scholastic, and, as 
it seems to us, needless perplexity.* It is the 
cause why many phrases are so often repeated 
with no distinct ideas atached to them, and a com- 
plete negation of meaning is often wrapped up and 
concealed, even from ourselves, in a consecrated 
dialect. Beside these considerations, however, we 
no doubt think also, that many of the changes we 
make in the mode of stating certain sentiments, 
give a more strictly correct representation of the 
true meaning of the scriptures. And it would be 
strange, if no improvements of this kind had been 
suggested by all the lights which the learning and 
piety, which have been employed on the sacred 
volume for a century and half, have struck out. 
It would indeed be passing strange, if it were true, 
that it was in the middle of the seventeenth cen- 
tury, amidst the tumult and extravagance of a civil 
war, when every other branch of knowledge was 
comparatively in its infancy, that this was the time, 



* Note E. 



288 DEDICATION OP THE NEW CHURCH. 

when the statement of every point in theology re- 
ceived its final improvement and perfection* 1 
freely own, that this assertion, which implies that 
the human mind ; instead of being only in its twi- 
light, then touched its highest point of theological 
illumination, seems to me scarcely less extravagant, 
than to say, that the period, when the maxims of 
civil government were finally settled for all future 
generations, was in the country and at the height of 
that revolution, which has recently convulsed the 
world to its centre. 

3. But though the differences between us and 
our fellow christians are chiefly verbal, there are 
others, which may be thought to be more real. 
There are some doctrines, on which many good 
men lay a great stress, which we do not teach as 
any essential part of christian faith. These doc- 
trines relate to modes of the divine nature, and di- 
visions of the divine essence ; to the theory of the 
divine attributes, and the grounds and extent of the 
divine decrees; to the origin and transmission of 
sin ; to the methods of God's operation on the hu- 
man mind ; to the final reasons of the ceconomy, 
and the ultimate results of the government of God. 
Most of these speculations evidently involve ques- 
tions of the most abstruse metaphysics; questions 
on which mankind have for ages disputed, and in 
which the most etherial spirits, after vainly excru- 



* Note F. 



DEDICATION OF THE NEW CHURCH. 



2U9 



dating their understandings, have "found no end. 
in wandering mazes lost." All that is any way prac- 
tical with regard to these speculations we embrace 
and teach ; for it lies obvious to the humblest 
mind.* For the rest, we conscientiously think, that 
much of them will forever be beyond the reach 
of the human understanding, till it is enlarged in a 
higher world ; and at any rate, that the scriptures 
either decide nothing with respect to them, or only 
indistinctly allude to them, or else decide against 
such views of them as are often received. We 
however certainly can never think, that any thing 
essential to christian faith or practice depends on 
the decision of these questions. We think it a 
thing in itself most unlikely, that a religion, design- 
ed, like the gospel, to be preached to the poor, 
the humble and the illiterate, quite as much as to 
the metaphysical and learned, would have any of 
its fundamental principles connected with these be- 
wildering inquiries/)" It seems to us the most 
beautiful feature of our religion, that it is so per- 
fectly simple, intelligible and practical. We exa- 
mine the preaching of our Saviour, and find that 
his addresses to mankind were all of the plainest 
character ; and can we err when we follow his di- 
vine example? We admit in the fullest manner 
the perfect right ef our fellow christians to think 
otherwise on these points ; but we are not able to 



*Note G. 

37 



t Note H 



290 DEDICATION OF THE NEW CHURCH, 



follow them in what seems to us their perilous and 
unauthorized speculations. We ask them to forgive 
us, when we say that the light of revelation seems 
not to our eyes to extend its guiding rays into these 
regions of perplexity. We beg them to permit us 
to remain on the open, plain and illuminated ground 
of our common Christianity; and rather to thank 
God with us, that we can go on so far together, 
than to refuse us their charity, because we advance 
beyond it more timidly, and — may it not be ? — 
more cautiously than they. 

4. From this view of the practical character of 
the gospel, and the consequent absence from our 
preaching of these abstruse speculations, arises 
what is esteemed another of our characteristics. 
We take the great end of all religion to be, simply, 
to make men good; to produce, in the language of 
the apostle, charity out of a pure heart, a good con- 
science, and faith unfeigned. The goodness here 
meant, is, indeed, of the most exalted character ; 
including not only the duties of self-government 
and social benevolence, but also, most assuredly, 
our supreme duties to God. It is the goodness, 
which was exemplified in its perfection by our 
Lord ; it is that goodness which is to fit man for 
the communion of the spirits of the blessed through- 
out eternity.* This moral influence on the human 
character it is, which seems to us to be the end of 



* Note I. 



DEDICATION OF THE NEW CHURCH. 



291 



all religion. It is that, to which every thing which 
revelation unfolds, is only subsidiary and ministerial. 
The whole substance of Christianity, therefore, 
seems to be contained in three words : the nature 
of christian duty ; the means of performing it ; our 
motives to use them. The whole theory of christian 
preaching, then, must be to exhort men to chris- 
tian duties, in the use of christian means, and by 
the excitement of christian motives. We have no 
conception of the meaning of religion, if it mean 
any thing different from this. We do confess, 
therefore, that we feel bound to remember, in 
its plain sense, the solemn charge of Paul to Timo- 
thy ; " It is a faithful saying, and these things I 
will that thou affirm constantly, that they that have 
believed in God might be careful to maintain good 
works; these things are good and profitable unto 
men." — It is St. Paul, who is speaking, my friends, 
not we ; and Avith his warrant, and with the exam- 
ple of a greater than Paul, even his Master and 
our Master, we ought to think it a small thing to 
be judged of man's judgment. We must consider 
the epithet, which is sometimes applied to our dis- 
courses, that they are " moral sermons," to be an 
epithet of honour, not of disgrace. They must 
share it in common with our Lord's own sermon on 
the Mount. 

5. It is another characteristic of our views of 
religious truth, that they do not lead us to expect 
single and instantaneous effects from its influence. 



292 DEDICATION OF THE NEW CHURCH. 



so much as a gradual and permanent operation. 
We deny not, that there are real examples of sud- 
den conversions from sin to holiness. We bless 
God for them. But this is not, we think, the usual 
history of mankind ; nor do the representations of 
the scriptures lead us to expect it will be so. We 
do not doubt, that good effects have sometimes been 
produced on particular persons, by throwing them 
into a sudden spasm of terror or agony of remorse. 
But in general we think, that men become virtu- 
ous — as they become wise — by constant and gra- 
dual accessions, and not by sudden impulse or mi- 
raculous illumination. Our preaching, therefore, 
does not aim, so much as that of some others, at 
immediate excitement. We hope, by the blessing 
of God, to produce a more calm and steady and 
rational and, therefore, we think, more probably, 
permanent influence on our hearers. Our manner 
is consequently less impassioned ; in the sense, that 
we do not so constantly touch the springs of ter- 
ror in the human breast. We are not insensible, 
that this manner can never be so acceptable to 
that class of hearers, who delight to be powerfully 
moved ; who expect from a sermon the effect of 
a tragedy ; and are accustomed to think, that a 
strong emotion is a great virtue. But though Ave 
are sorry to be thought unprofitable preachers by 
any of our fellow christians, Ave yet think, that po- 
pularity may be purchased too dearly. We seri- 
ously doubt the general and permanent good effects 



DEDICATION OF THE NEW CHURCH. 293 

of applying a constant stimulus to the stronger 
passions of the soul. It is apt, we fear, to rouse 
them at first to unnatural, and not always very va- 
luable exertions ; and at last to expend their ener- 
gy and wear out or palsy their power. It is, 
however, a question of fact. We do not court^ 
but we certainly do not decline a comparison, as to 
the practical efficacy of the two modes of preach- 
ing, considered in their effects on the whole cha- 
racter, through the whole of life, of all the diffe- 
rent classes of mankind. 

We confess, then, that our principles lead us to 
the exercise of caution in our addresses to the pas- 
sions. If this were the place for speaking of our 
individual failings, we should not hesitate to admit, 
also, that, from the difficulty of finding the exact 
medium between extremes, which is the great task 
of human life, this caution may sometimes be carri- 
ed too far, and degenerate into a coldness and want 
of becoming earnestness. May God forgive us, 
wherever this is in any degree the case. There is 
nothing in our principles, however, which justifies 
any want of zeal, or excludes at all the most af- 
fecting appeals to the best feelings of the human 
heart. Our view T s of it, we trust, do not rob reli- 
gion of any of its salutary power to move and 
raise and melt the soul. The character of God 
appears not to us less merciful or less glorious, than 
to our brethren. Christ seems not less endued 
with all-sufficient power to enlighten, redeem, and 



294 DEDICATION OF THE NEW CHURCH. 



exalt his sincere disciples; nor are his labours 
and his sufferings for us less entitled to our most 
grateful and affectionate remembrance. The aids 
and consolations of the holy spirit of God seem 
not to us to be less freely or less impartially offered 
to all who sincerely and humbly ask them, than 
they do to our brethren. Sin appears not to 
us less opposed to our nature, and to the benevo- 
lent designs of God ; nor does its connexion with 
misery in every stage of our being seem less evi- 
dently to be the established and eternal law of the 
divine government. He, whom such motives and 
such views as we embrace will not warm and ex- 
cite to the love of holiness and dread of sin, and 
to ardent and persevering efforts to produce that 
love and that dread in those, who are committed 
to his care, must be impassive to the influences of 
all that is most animating and awful, all that is 
most touching and sublime in human conceptions. 
It surely does not follow, because we think, that 
views of religion, produced and nourished by fear 
chiefly or alone, will be ignoble and degrading, that 
we are less — in truth we ought to be more — induc- 
ed to address the principles of love, hope, grati- 
tude, and, in its due degree, fear itself, together 
with all the sympathies and affections of our moral 
constitution. We regard it as a very incomplete 
and erroneous view of human nature, as well as of 
christian theology, to suppose, that the best effects 
of our religion are to be felt, or the highest style 



DEDICATION OF THE NEW CHURCH* 



29.5 



of moral character to be produced, without the 
use of the affections. The glory and beauty and 
perfection of the christian character will never be 
seen, except where all the faculties of our moral 
and intellectual nature are called into action to pro- 
duce and adorn it; where reason makes itself tri- 
butary to affection, where faith is warmed in the 
heart, as well as enlightened in the understanding ; 
where a sense of duty and a sense of interest, phi- 
losophy and sensibility, prudence and enthusiasm, 
while they temper and regulate each others ten- 
dencies, unite in prompting to sublime and disinte- 
rested benevolence to man, and supreme love and 
devotion to God. 

I might remark on some other and less peculiar 
characteristics of those christians, in whose name 
I have spoken, but it is necessary that I should 
forbear. I will only repeat my hope, that the ob- 
servations, which have now been hazarded, will be 
taken, as I am sure they are meant, in the spirit of 
entire good will towards those who differ from us. 
1 profess towards them a real respect. I see among 
them very many bright and true exemplifications 
of the christian character. I bear them witness, 
that they have a zeal towards God. 1 doubt not, 
that their modes of representing truth may have 
a real use to some classes of minds. It may be one 
of the reasons, why the sacred writings are not 
framed more systematically and technically, that a 
provision is thus made for such a difference in the 



296 DEDICATION OF THE NEW CHURCH. 

mode of regarding some points of secondary impor- 
tance, as is adapted to the differences in the mental 
constitution and habits of mankind. This is a view, 
which I acknowledge to be refreshing and consoling 
to my mind, when I consider the different sects, 
into which the christian world is divided. It ena- 
bles me to see without pain the success of those, 
whose views of christian truth vary a good deal 
from my own; regarding their exertions, as I am 
thus permitted to regard them, only as diversities 
of operation under the influence of the same spi- 
rit. At least, however, there is nothing in the dif- 
ferences, which have been noticed in this discourse, 
which need to loosen, far less to rupture the bonds 
of christian charity or christian fellowship between 
us and our brethren. They are such differences as 
might even be made subservient to mutual im- 
provement. If a spirit of mutual candour and 
friendship could be cultivated, if we would concede 
to each other the great protestant right of indivi- 
dual judgment, and if, while contending earnestly 
for what we believe to be truth, we would remem- 
ber our own weakness and fallibility, we might 
contribute to guard each other from that tendency 
to rush into extremes, to which we are all so liable. 
After all, whatever may be said or thought in the 
heat of controversy, it is impossible, that any one 
should seriously doubt, that all christians have ulti- 
mately the same object. For have they not all 
the same interest, the same eternal interest ; and 



DEDICATION OF THE NEW CHURCH. 



297 



what imaginable motive can there be, with the 
immense majority of them, to attempt to de- 
ceive others or themselves ? How can it be 
thought, that men, acknowledged to be men of in- 
tegrity on every other subject, should wantonly 
and madly desert their principles on that subject 
only, which is of all the most momentous ? Would 
to God that the time might at length come, when 
christians would apply the same maxims in judging 
of each others motives and views in religion, that 
they feel to be just in every other case ! 

But with whatever feelings the views, which we 
take of the nature and design of the gospel, are 
regarded by others, we are not at liberty to alter 
them. We beg our brethren, who think hardly of 
us for our opinions, to believe, that we have adopt- 
ed them in the honesty of our hearts. We con- 
scientiously think, that a rational representation is 
the true representation of God's word. We think, 
the genius of the age requires that it should be 
made, if Christianity is to retain any hold of the 
greater part of thinking and cultivated minds. It 
will not do, that, when every other department of 
human knowledge has been in constant progress, 
the science of theology alone should remain with 
only those statements and illustrations, which were 
given it during the darkness of the middle ages. 
It is not sufficient to reply, that the belief of many 
good persons in some of the most important truths 
is so connected with long established prejudices. 
38 



298 DEDICATION OF THE NEW CHURCH. 

that they will be in danger of abandoning these 
truths along with these prejudices. This is an ar- 
gument for caution and moderation in our exertions ; 
but it is no good argument to relinquish them. If 
Luther and his followers had listened to it, the re- 
formation would not have blessed the world ; and 
the timid spirit of Erasmus would have purchased 
its repose at the expense of the loss of the oppor- 
tunity of emancipating mankind from ignorance 
and error. — But it is not right, that our fears should 
be all on one side. While we respect the preju- 
dices of the unenlightened, we ought not to de- 
spise the serious objections of the thinking part of 
mankind. The consequences of presenting to them 
only such views of religion as revolt alike their 
understanding and moral sense, must be a real, 
though it may be a secret abandonment of all 
faith in its authority. A double doctrine will thus 
be establ shed, of thinking with the initiated and 
talking with the vulgar ; a system, which, as has 
been finely and truly said, " is beyond any perma- 
nent condition of human society destructive of in- 
genuousness, good faith and probity ; of intellectual 
courage and manly character ; and of that respect 
for all human beings, without which there can be 
no justice or humanity from the powerful towards 
the humble/'* 

Having then such views of the importance of 
the principles which we have embraced, and be- 

£ Sir James Mackintosh's review De L'AUemagne par Mad. de Stael. 



DEDICATION OF THE NEW CHURCH. 299 

lieving, as we do, that they correspond with the 
results of the researches of the ablest and most 
pious inquirers after the truth as it is in Jesus, the 
path of our duty is plain before us. We must fol- 
low it at any hazard. If we did not, the holy con- 
fessors of our faith in every age would disown us, 
the intrepid genius of ' the reformers would disdain 
us, the sacred shades of our fathers would re- 
proach us for shrinking from our duty and disgracing 
our illustrious origin ; and where, oh where, should 
we appear, when called to give up our great and 
final account ! 

It is with these views of christian truth, that we 
now enter this temple to dedicate it to Almighty 
God. And may he grant that, so far as they are 
just, they may here be preached and heard, till 
this lofty spire bows under the hand of time, and 
these massive walls crumble into their primitive 
dust. 

III. It would correspond, I believe, to a general 
custom on occasions like the present, if we were 
now to look back to the ancient history of this 
church. But our church has no history, beyond 
the short and simple annals of the ministrations it 
has regularly witnessed. When, however, I say, 
that it affords no materials for public history, I 
conceive that I give to it the highest praise. For 
history, we know, records not on its blood-stained 



300 DEDICATION OF THE NEW CHURCH. 



page the peaceful triumphs of religion in private 
life, but is too often the register only of intrigue 
and warfare, of the crimes and enterprises of bad 
ambition. It is now nearly a century of years, 
since a temple was first erected on this spot, 
which had been consecrated by the piety of our 
fathers from time immemorial to this sacred use. 
It was not established in the spirit of schism ; but 
was the result of the regular overflow of other 
churches, many of the members of which contri- 
buted towards the expense of the undertaking. 
The progress of this church has been as harmo- 
nious, as its origin was peaceful. It has never been 
found in collision with any other church. Its spi- 
rit has always been liberal. Its terms of commu- 
nion have never been narrow and exclusive. Its 
ministers have always been catholic in their feel- 
ings. The list of them is begun by the venerable 
Checkley, followed by the affectionate Bowen, the 
interesting and eloquent Howe, the acute and pro- 
found Everett. I could add another name, but my 
heart is forbidden to utter its feelings. The house 
which was first erected here, after having stood for 
ninety-seven years, has now given place to that in 
which we meet. Erected, as it has been, in most 
disastrous times, I may be allowed to consider it 
as a noble monument of the spirit of our citizens; 
a pledge that they consider religion as their best 
refuge in calamity; and that the last sentiment 



DEDICATION OP THE NEW CHURCH. 301 

they are willing to lose, is that of respect for her 
worship,* 

Come, then, fathers, brethren, friends, christians, 
let us again invoke the presence and blessing of the 
most high God. We solemnly consecrate this tem- 
ple to Him ; to the religion of his Son, who died 
for us ; to the spirit of evangelical piety, charity 
and truth. Henceforth may the angels of celestial 
love take up their dwelling in this sanctuary, and 
ever may they carry from it to the mercy seat of 
heaven the tribute of humble, grateful, devoted 
hearts, the offerings of sincere and acceptable wor- 
shippers ! — Ye holy walls! henceforth sacred to 
the religion of Jesus — peace be within you ! For 
my brethren and companions sake, I will now 
say — peace be within you ! Never may ye be pol- 
luted by hypocritical prayers — never may ye echo 
with heartless praises — ever may the words of 
truth be dispensed within you in their simplicity and 
uncorrupted purity — never may ye witness the love 
of Christ commemorated here with unthankful 
remembrance, or his cause dishonoured by faithless 
professions! Here may all the best influences of 
the gospel — all its regenerating, sanctifying and 
elevating influences* — ever be felt ! And long after 
the voice, which now feebly sounds within you, is 
hushed in silence — long after these worshippers 
shall all have passed away from the earth — may 



* Note K. 



302 DEDICATION OF THE NEW CHURCH. 

their children and their children's children to the 
latest generation here taste the joy and peace of 
believing, and find that this is unto them, as it has 
been to their fathers, none other than the house of 
God, and the gate of heaven ! 



author's preface to the foregoing 
discourse. 

I owe to the Society, with which it is my happi- 
ness to be connected, some explanation of my 
delay in complying with their request. The fol- 
lowing discourse was not originally designed, and 
does not now seem to me well adapted for the 
press. From the extent of the subject, the views 
which it offers are unavoidably very general. The 
necessity, also, of preserving, as far as might be, 
the distinction between a sermon and a dissertation, 
has occasioned a want of fullness in the reasoning 
and illustrations, which — though pardonable, per- 
haps, in what is intended only to be spoken — may 
not meet the same indulgence, when submitted to 
the inspection of a reader. I had concluded, for 
these and other obvious reasons, to decline to com- 
ply with the wishes of my friends. This determi- 
nation, however, has been changed by the informa- 



DEDICATION OF THE NEW CHURCH. 303 



tion I have recently received, that some parts of 
this discourse have been much misapprehended, 
and misstated. It is now published, as it was ori- 
ginally delivered, except some verbal corrections, 
and a few unimportant additions. 

I am sensible that it may appear presumptuous, 
to have undertaken to speak in the name of my 
brethren. The motive, which justified it, howe- 
ver, was well known to those to whom the dis- 
course was addressed ; and if it should chance to 
meet the eye of any others, they will of course 
perceive, that though the plural form is used, 
nothing more than the sentiments of an individual 
are given. I have endeavoured, it is true, to re- 
present accurately the opinions of that class of 
christians, with which I habitually think ; but it is 
proper distinctly to say, that no part of this dis- 
course was communicated to any person before its 
delivery; and that, therefore, the writer alone is 
responsible for the correctness of the statements 
it contains. 

In speaking of the principles advanced in this 
discourse, as the characteristics of particular chris- 
tians, it will not be supposed, that these christians 
claim to be the exclusive adherers to them. Nothing 
more is meant, than that these are some of the ge- 
neral maxims which they agree in receiving, and 
which they adhere to, it may be, with something 
more of fidelity and consistency than others. So 
far from arrogating an exclusive regard to them 



304 DEDICATION OF THE NEW CHURCH. 



for any single body of christians, I take great plea- 
sure in believing, that they are held substantially 
by a large proportion of the members of all Pro- 
testant communions, whether adopting the distinc- 
tive names of Lutherans, Calvinists,* Episcopalians, 
or Arminians; There is no general principle, in- 
deed, taken in this discourse, for which there may 
not be produced the authority of persons of each 
of these churches, and those too among the most 
illustrious for learning and piety. 

After these remarks, I need scarcely observe, 
that, when the phrase, " rational Christianity," is 
used in the following discourse, it is by no means 
to be considered as applicable merely to a compa- 

* I am permitted, I fear, to claim the authority of those christians, who 
are known by the name of High Calvinists, or by the kindred name of Hop- 
kinsians, for but few of the principles, which I have advanced. Except in our 
own country, however, the number, I believe, is small, of those, who make 
the chief peculiarity of Calvin a fundamental article of faith. I subjoin a 
quotation on this point from the Rev. Robert Hall ; who will, I presume, 
be universally admitted to be the most distinguished ornament of what is 
called the orthodox or evangelical party in Great Britain. In speaking of 
the evangelical clergy, he remarks : " we cannot dismiss this part of the 
subject, without remarking their exemplary moderation on those intricate 
points, which unhappily divide the christian church; the questions, we 
mean, in relation to predestination and freewill, on which, equally remote 
from Pelagian heresy and Antinomian licentiousness, they freely tolerate 
and indulge a diversity of opinion, embracing Calvinists and Arminians 
with little distinction ; provided the Calvinism of the former be practical 
and moderate, and the Arminianisin of the latter be evangelical and de- 
vout. The greater part of them, we believe, lean to the doctrine of gene- 
ral redemption, and love to represent the gospel as bearing a friendly aspect 
towards the eternal happiness of all to whom it is addressed ; but they are 
much less anxious to establish a polemical accuracy, than to 4 win souls to 
Christ.' " Strictures on a work entitled " Zeal without Innovation." p. 35. 
Lond. 1809. 



DEDICATION OF THE NEW CHURCH. 



306 



ratively small number of christians, who hold par- 
ticular opinions on the metaphysical nature of our 
Lord. Such an appropriation of that phrase I 
conceive to be entirely unjust ; and to breathe 
something of the same narrowness of spirit, which 
these christians are not backward to censure in 
others. 

But neither bigotry nor liberality are exclusively 
of any sect ; and all men ought to guard against 
the tendency, which the pride of spiritual superio- 
rity produces, to think that our own opinions are 
identified with the conclusions of reason, the dic- 
tates of conscience, and the commands of God, 

The term " apology," in the title of this dis- 
course, is used in its original sense as nearly synony- 
mous with " defence" or " vindication." AnoAoriA, 
the learned reader will recollect, is employed by 
St. Peter in the text. 

Vbb. 9, 1815* 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATION S. 

A. 

T'he general principle of the conformity of Christianity to the conclusions 
of enlightened reason will hardly be disputed by intelligent christians. It 
is a ground, which has always been taken by the most able and judicious 
defenders of the gospel. It was very fully surveyed and illustrated about 

39 



306 



DEDICATION OF THE NEW CHURCH. 



the middle of the last century, by Dr. Doddridge, Dr. Benson, Dr. Ran- 
dolph, and Dr. Leland, in the controversy occasioned by the deistical tract 
entitled Christianity not founded on Argument. 

B. 

" Reason is natural revelation, whereby the Eternal Father of Light 
and Fountain of all knowledge communicates to mankind that portion of 
truth, which he has laid within the reach of their natural faculties. Reve- 
lation is natural reason enlarged by a new set of discoveries, communicated 
by God immediately, which reason vouches the truth of by the testimony 
and proofs it gives that they come from God. So that he, that takes away 
reason to make way for revelation, puts out the light of both ; and does 
much the same, as if he would persuade a man to put out his eyes, the bet- 
ter to receive the remote light of an invisible star by a telescope." 

Locke's Essay, B. iv. c. 19, 

C. 

" To those especially, who seek for conviction in certain inward feelings, 
which the warmth of their imaginations represents to them as divine, I 
would recommend the serious consideration of this important fact ; that the 
foundation, which they lay for the Bible, is no other than what the Mahome- 
tan is accustomed to lay for the Koran. If you ask a Mahometan, why he 
ascribes divine authority to the Koran, his answer is : because, when I 
lead it, sensations are excited, which could not have been produced by any 
work, that came not from God.***But do we not immediately perceive, 
when the Mahometan thus argues from inward sensations, that he is merely 
raising a phantom of his own imagination ?***The christian, who thus ar- 
gues, may answer, indeed, and answer with truth, that his sensations are 
produced by a work, which is really divine, while the sensations excited in 
the Mahometan are produced by a work, which is only thought so. But this 
very truth will involve the person, who thus uses it, in a glaring absurdity, 
In the first place he appeals to a criterion, which puts the Bible on a level 
with the Koran : and then to obviate this objection, he endeavours to show 
the superiority of his own appeal, by presupposing the fact, which he had 
undertaken to prove." — Prof. Marsh's Lectures. P. II. L. III. p. 51 — 52. 
American edition. 

D. 

I am anxious, that the principles, which have been advanced under this 
head of the discourse, should be taken with the explanations and limita- 
tions, which I have endeavoured studiously to annex to them. I would 
particularly beg it to be observed, that it is by no means denied, that the 
objects, to which the truths of revelation relate, may contain many things 
not fully comprehensible by reason. Indeed there is perhaps no object pre* 



DEDICATION OF THE NEW CHURCH. 



3a7 



sented to us either by nature or revelation, which the human mind can be 
said entirely and perfectly to comprehend in all its relations and properties. 
The humblest flower, that springs up under our feet, contains that, which 
the most exalted philosophy can only teach us to wonder at and admire. 
Still, however, so far as a true philosopher asserts any thing with regard to 
its existence, structure, growth, or any of its properties, powers, or connec- 
tions, he perfectly understands what he asserts, and employs language only 
in such a sense as may be intelligible to others. In like manner, all truth, 
intended to be conveyed to the human mind, must be intelligible in itself, 
and conveyed in language intelligible by those to whom it is addressed. 
The truths of revelation form no exception. They are expressed in words, 
which are the signs of human ideas, and which, therefore, can only be em- 
ployed to convey the ideas, which men have annexed to them. We may, 
of course, form ideas of all the propositions contained in the scriptures. 
But of that which is unintelligible, the mind can take no cognizance, can 
have no belief, can give to it no assent. We may make the form of a propo- 
sition with respect to it ; but it cannot have the reality of one. It is noth- 
ing — nothing but idle words. We need not scruple to say, that to believe a 
proposition, which either includes a contradiction, or else has no assignable, 
no intelligible meaning whatever, is a thing which is in its nature impossi- 
ble* The scriptures undoubtedly can contain no such proposition. 

It is evidently very consistent with these remarks, to believe, that revela- 
tion may indulge us with only very limited and imperfect views of many in- 
teresting truths. We now see through a glass, darkly. But these intimations, 
we are to remember, are all that revelation designs to give us, because 
they are probably all we are now capable of understanding, or all which 
can fitly be made known to us in a state of probation. We are not per- 
mitted to consider them merely as food for our conjectures, or materials 
from which we are to construct our own precarious systems. I do not 
mean, that we are bound, or that we are able wholly to repress the curiosi- 
ty, which they so naturally excite ; but we are to beware how we place 
our conjectures on a level with the truths which the gospel unfolds. When 
treating of truths, as the doctrines of scripture, and the fundamentals of 
christian faith, we are to stop where the scriptures stop. We are not to be 
wise above what is written. 

Let us take, as an example, what the scriptures declare as to the efficacy 
of the death of our Saviour. There is perhaps no proposition on this sub- 
ject, in which so many christians would agree, as that of Paley ;* " that 
our Lord's death and sufferings are spoken of in the scriptures in reference 
to human salvation, as the death and sufferings of no other being are spo- 
ken of ; and that the full meaning of these passages cannot be satisfied 



* Paley's Works, Vol. IV. Sermon XXIII. passim. 



308 



DEDICATION OF THE NEW CHURCH. 



without supposing, that these sufferings and death had a real and essentia! 
effect in procuring that salvation." It is not my purpose to inquire into the 
accuracy or completeness of this statement. Granting that it is a correct 
representation of what the scriptures teach on this subject, and of all that 
they clearly teach, it would follow, from what is remarked in the preceding 
paragraph, that we are not at liberty to declare from our own conjectures, 
or from a very few and obscure texts of scripture, in ivhat the efficacy of 
our Lord's death consists, or why so great a sacrifice was necessary for the 
remission of sins. These are the secret things, which belong unto the Lord 
our God ; and it is those things only which are revealed ', which belong unto 
us. 

In the application to the interpretation of the Bible of these principles 
with regard to the office of reason, which I have now endeavoured to illus- 
trate, there is need, I confess, of great caution; but also of great fidelity. 
They can never lead us to reject a single article clearly revealed there, as 
an article of christian faith. They can never teach us to say, that the 
scriptures err ; but they may and will sometimes lead us to suspend our be- 
lief in the correctness of our own researches into the scriptures,or to say, that 
we do not at once understand a particular passage, or that some interpre- 
tation different from the obvious and literal one is the true meaning. It 
then, in the study of the scriptures, we should find any thing apparently 
self-contradictory and unintelligible, we ought to suppose the defect to be 
in us, not in them. A longer study will show us, that the difficulty was on- 
ly apparent. But if this apparent contradiction should still remain after 
all our inquiries, it is surely better to suppose, that we misunderstand the 
scriptures, than that they are unworthy of God. 

Every Protestant of every sect acknowledges these truths, and acts upon 
them with more or less consistency. On what grounds, for example, do we 
all reject the doctrine of transubstantiation ? The Catholic may produce, 
to us the words of our Saviour ; this is my body: and again ; except ye eat 
the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, ye have no life in you. It 
is not to be denied, that the plain and literal meaning of all this is, that we 
do eat and drink in the Eucharist the actual body and blood of our Lord ; 
or as the Catholic has it, the body and blood of Almighty God himself. 
But all Protestants, with united voice, exclaim, that this interpretation is 
impossible ; that it includes every kind of absurdity and contradiction, and 
that the reason, which God has given us, authorizes us to say, that no evi- 
dence could render such a doctrine credible. We proceed then to show, 
from other passages of scripture, as well as from its general strain and spi- 
rit, that the language of our Saviour in this case is merely a figure of 
speech authorized by the genius and idiom of the languages of the east. 

The zeal of some christians, in vindicating the scriptures from the re- 
proach of containing any doctrine inconsistent with reason, has undoubtedly 
sometimes led them to serious errors. But while we steadilv discountenance 



DEDICATION OF THE NEW CHURCH. 



309 



a rash and intemperate criticism, we are boi d not to despise too lightly 
their motives, which may be respectable, or thei; learning and talents, which 
may be great and splendid. We ought to be well assured, that there are 
no circumstances, which may have innocently led our brethren into what 
we esteem error, and especially to be certain, that for doctrines, which we 
believe and they deny, there can be adduced passages of scripture equally 
and more express and unequivocal, than those which the Catholic can cite 
for the belief of the actual presence. 

To the infidel, who triumphs in the belief, that the scriptures are so loose 
and indeterminate as to admit of opposite interpretations, I would briefly re- 
ply. It would be very strange, if books, like the scriptures, — of such high an- 
tiquity, written in languages so unlike our own, and now no longer spoken, 
in countries too where habits, manners, taste, customs and opinions, so 
different from our own, prevailed — to say nothing of the difficulties produc- 
ed by the modern and unauthorized division of them into chapters and ver- 
ses — it would indeed be strange, if such books should be as easy of com- 
prehension in every part, as if they were written in cur own country, and in 
our vernacular tongue. The only inference, which can be admitted as a 
legitimate and necessary one from the fact of the differences among se nous 
and intelligent christians is simply this ; that the doctrines in question be- 
tween them can constitute no essential part of Christianity. 

The difficulties in the interpretation of the New Testament are chiefly 
found in the epistles of St. Paul. On the causes of this peculiar obscurity in 
his writings, I heg leave to refer to a sermon on this subject by my ever-la 
mented friend, the late Rev. J. S. Buckmiaster.— Before it is concluded, 
that the epistles do not admit of a perfectly consistent and rational inter- 
pretation, the comments of Grotius and Locke should be diligently studied. 
I refer to these great men the more readily, because, as laymen, they were 
exempt from any professional bias, and because their competency to these 
inquiries is above all question. 

E. 

£< You may have observed, that persons, in attributing fanaticism to 
evangelical teachers, often fix on the phrases, more than the absolute sub- 
stance of evangelical doctrines. Now would it not be better to show them 
what these doctrines are, as divested of these phrases, and exhibited clear- 
ly in that vehicle, in which other important truths are presented, and thus 
at least to repress their scorn ? If sometimes their approbation might be 
gained, it were a still more desirable effect. Persons, who had received 
unfavourable impressions of some of the peculiar ideas of the gospel, from 
having heard them advanced almost exclusively in the modes of phrase on 
which I have remarked, have acknowledged their prejudices to be diminish- 
ed, after these ideas had been presented in the simple general language of 
intellect. We cannot indeed so far forget the lessons of experience, and 



310 



DEDICATION OP THE NEW CHURCH. 



the inspired declarations concerning the dispositions of the human mind, as 
to expect that any improvement in the mode of exhibiting christian truth 
will render it irresistible. But it were to be wished, that every thing should 
be done to bring reluctant minds into some degree of doubt, at least, wheth- 
er if they cannot be evangelical, it is because they are too rational." 

Fosters Essays, p. 210, 2d. Am. edition. 

F. 

I fear I shall grieve some excellent persons, when I say, that I here al- 
lude to the Westminster Assembly's Catechism. It will be observed, how- 
ever, that these remarks do not deny, that this compend has various and 
great merits, for the time when it was made ; but are merely intended to 
suggest the inquiry, whether it ought to be considered as the final result of all 
that the human mind can do, in stating the doctrines of our religion. Unless 
it have this perfection, it cannot be right to speak of it as the standard by 
which u to try all doctrines ;" to use it as the text of sermons, and to teach 
it to young and old, as if it were an inspired digest of the scriptures them- 
selves. I make these observations with the more confidence, since this ca- 
techism is confessedly so imperfect, that the General Association of this 
state, composed of ministers, who appropriate to themselves the name of 
orthodox, cannot be brought to subscribe this instrument without the quali- 
fying clause, that they receive it only "/or substance." When, in addition 
to this, it is considered, that this work, after all, contains nothing more than 
the sentiments of the majority of a body of men, in an age not otherwise 
thought to be very enlightened, with no peculiar exemption from error, and 
certainly under many very great disadvantages for calm and dispassionate 
judgment, it will not be considered as a forfeiture of one's Christianity to 
believe, that some of its doctrines may now be stated in a manner more 
conformable to the improvement of biblical science and the general progress 
of the human mind. 

It is almost needless to observe, that the comparison suggested in the text 
is not meant to extend farther than to imply, that, as times of extraor- 
dinay excitement and contention concerning the principles of government 
are evidently unfavourable to wise decisions in politics, a season of similar 
excitement, with regard to religious, as well as political opinions, cannot 
be the most friendly to the best decisions on points of theology. 

G. 

The distinction between what is practical and what is speculative in 
these subjects is a veiy clear one. Take for example the discussion relating 
to the sinfulness of the human heart. The gospel addresses all mankind 
as sinners ; it takes it for granted, that there are deep and powerful, and, 
if indulged, ruinous tendencies to evil in the human breast. There is no 
dispute on this fact. All christians believe it. But what is the method. 



/ 



DEDICATION OP THE NEW CHURCH- 3il 



which the New Testament takes to convince us of this truth ? Is it by 
dissertations on the origin of sin, or the manner in which it was introduced 
into our constitution? or by showing that these propensities to evil have 
no antagonist principles within us, but that we are called on, at the peril of 
our salvation, to contend against them without arms and- without strength p 
I appeal to the unprejudiced readers of this sacred volume to say, that this 
is not the mode in which our Lord or his apostles address mankind. No; 
ihey think it enough to call upon every man to look honestly and humbly 
into his own character, to compare himself with God's law, and to let con- 
science be faithful to its office. No man, who does not instantly perceive, 
after such an examination, that in many things he offends daily, and in all 
comes short of the glory of God, will ever be convinced of this fact by ten 
thousand arguments relating to original and imputed sin. A man can be 
humbled for no sin, can repent of no sin, can be converted from no sin, till 
he is made conscious, that he is personally guilty of it ; on the facts of the 
case, of the sinfulness of the human heart, there can never be any doubt or 
dispute, in individual instances, among serious and honest men. A similar 
practical agreement, I apprehend, might be shown with regard to all the 
doctrines, to which I refer in this part of the discourse. 

It will be remarked, that I have no where meant to imply, that the chris= 
tians, whose sentiments I defend, have no opinions on these speculative 
questions; or that they entirely agree in their judgments upon them; or 
that they attach no importance to the different sentiments, which are em- 
braced with respect to them. Undoubtedly among all thinking men there 
will be varying opinions on all these difficult points ; and there are not a 
few persons, whose claims to the name of truly liberal as well as learned 
divines are not to be disputed, whose views on some of these questions ap- 
proach towards those, which are embraced by christians of the most rigid 
and exclusive character. The only point, in which they would all agree is, 
in saying, that those practical principles, in which all christians unite, are 
of higher authority and weightier importance than our metaphysical specu- 
lations can be ; and in declining therefore to make a man's opinions with 
regard to any of these dispute points the test of his christian character, or 
the term of christian and ministerial communion with him. 

H. 

It is with religion, as it is with morals, nothing can be more plain than its 
practice, nothing more difficult than many parts of its theory. This, it should 
seem, ought to lead a christian teacher to the same course, which a judi- 
cious moralist pursues. Who, that was desirous of impressing on mankind 
at large the practice of the virtues of benevolence or gratitude, would think 
of discussing before a miscellaneous audience the controversy with regard 
to the origin of our moral ideas, and contending cither for the theory of 
Cudworth, or Hutchcson, or Butler, or Price ? Would he not rather ap~ 



312 



DEDICATION OP THE NEW CHURCH. 



peal at once to our sense of right and wrong, and call us to read those sa- 
cred and indelible characters, in which God has written the obligation or 
these virtues on the human heart? — These different theories are, no doubt, 
in a philosophical point of view of great moment. But whether he embra- 
ces the one or the other of them, does not every wise and good man ac- 
knowledge the supreme authority and importance of those facts, in which 
allgood men agree, and allow that his ultimate appeal must always be 
made to the universal moral sentiments and emotions of the human race ? 
€i Fortunately for mankind," says Mr. Stewart, " the great rules of a vir- 
tuous conduct are confessedly of such a nature, as to be obvious to every 
sincere and well disposed mind. And it is in a peculiar degree striking, 
that, while the theory of ethicks involves some of the most abstruse questions 
which have ever employed the human faculties, the moral judgments and 
moral feelings of the most distant ages and nations with respect to all the 
most essential duties of life are one and the same." Philosophy of the 
Mind, Vol. II. p. 392—3. Boston edition. 

I. 

To avoid the possibility of misconstruction, I wish to repeat, that by th6 
moral influence of the gospel, is meant its influence in the production of in- 
ward, as well as external obedience ; the holiness both of the heart and 
the life. " Repentance towards God" of course must stand in the foremost 
rank of christian duties ; and " faith in our Lord Jesus Christ" must be the 
origin, motive, principle, of that reformation, which is always included in 
the tl repentance, which is unto salvation." In like manner, all of what 
are called the " doctrines" of the gospel are, in our view of the subject, in- 
cluded under its motives. There is no value in the mere belief of any of 
them, except so far as that belief operates on us u in overcoming the world," 
in f< purifying the heart," and inducing " newness of life and new obedi- 
ence." 

There is, perhaps, no one principle of such primary importance, both to 
the theological inquirer and the practical christian, as that this moral influ- 
ence of the gospel is its great and ultimate design, as far as it respects man. 
It is that grand and luminous truth, around which all the other truths of 
the religious system arrange themselves, and from which they derive all 
their lustre and all their value to man. It is a principle attended with a 
plenitude and clearness of evidence, which no other possesses. Any thing 
really inconsistent with it, we may be sure must be false. Tout' ce qui 
tend a. l'immoralite n'est jamais qu'un sophisme. Let any one, who doubts 
the extent and importance of this principle, attempt to state to himself any 
other end of the christian revelation, than to fit men for heaven by mak- 
ing them good, and he will at once see, that he can assign no one, which 
must not ultimately be resolved into this. Who indeed can have any doubt 
on this point, who considers how distinctly it is declared, that the ultimate 



DEDICATION OF THE NEW CHURCH. 313 



end of the death of our Saviour himself is its moral influence on his disci- 
ples. " And this we are assured of," saith Bp. Fowler, " by abundance of 
express scriptures, some few of which we will here produce :" 

Rom. vi. 6. Knowing this, that our old man is crucified with him, that 
the body of sin might be destroyed, that henceforth we should not serve him. 

2 Cor. v. 15. He died for all, that they which live should not henceforth 
live unt6 themselves, but unto him that died for them and rose again. 

Gal. i. 4. Who gave himself for our sins, that he might deliver us from 
this present evil world, (viz. from its corrupt practices) according to the will 
of God and our Father. 

Ephes. v. 25, 26, 27. Christ loved the church and gave himself for it, 
that he might sanctify and cleanse it with the washing of water by the word, 
that he might present it unto himself a glorious church, not having spot or 
wrinkle, or any such thing ; but that it should be holy and without blemish. 

Colos. i. 21, 22. And you that were sometime alienated and enemies in 
your minds by wicked works, hath he now reconciled in the body of his 
flesh through death, to present you holy, unblamable and unreprovable in his 
sight. 

Titus, ii. 14. Who gave himself for us, that he might redeem us from all 
iniquity, and purify to himself a peculiar people, zealous of good works. 

1 Peter, i. 18. For as much as ye know that ye were not redeemed with 
corruptible things, as silver and gold, / rom your vain conversation received 
by tradition from your fathers ; but with the precious blood of Christ, a 
lamb without blemish and without spot. 

1 Peter, iii. 18. For Christ also once suffered for gins, the just for the un- 
just, that he might bring us to God, &c. That is, saith Calvin upon the 
place, that we might be so consecrated to God as to live and die to him. 

1 Peter, ii. 24. Who his own self bare our sins in his own body on the 
tree, that we being dead to sin should live to righteousness ; by whose stripes 
ye were healed. Design of Christianity, by Bp. Fowler, apud Watson's 
Theological Tracts, vol. vi. 339, 340. 

K. 

The following chronological memoranda may perhaps be valued by the 
members of the New South Society. 

First meeting on record for the formation of the society, July 14, 1715. 
New House dedicated : sermons by Dr. Cotton Mather and Rev. Benjamin 
Wadsworth, January 8, 1716. Church covenant signed, and the Rev. Sa- 
muel Checkley ordained Pastor, April 15, 1719. Rev. Penuel Bowen or- 
dained colleague Pastor, April 30, 1766. Rev. Joseph Howe ordained Pas- 
tor, May 19, 1773. Rev. Oliver Everett, do. January 2, 1782. Rev. John 
Thornton Kirkland, do. February 5, 1794. Inducted President of Harvard 
College, November 3, 1810. Present Pastor ordained, May 15, 1811. Old 
house taken down, April, 1814. New house dedicated) Dec. 29, 1814. 

40 



A DISSERTATION. 



A DISSERTATION, 



On the kind and degree of evidence necessary to es- 
tablish the Doctrine of the Trinity, and by which 
we might expect the Doctrine of the Trinity ivould 
be supported in the Scriptures. 

It will easily be acknowledged, that in all inquiries 
which depend on moral evidence, the correctness 
of our conclusions will be very much affected by 
the standard of proof by which we try them. 
If this standard is either too high or too low, if we 
require either too much or too little evidence, we 
may disbelieve where we ought to be convinced, 
or be convinced where we ought to disbelieve. 
The sceptic, who demands a kind and degree of 
proof inconsistent with our moral nature, our state 
of probation, and the analogy of the divine govern- 
ment, is led to throw away the inestimable aids, 
and motives, and consolations, and hopes of Christi- 
anity. The believer in Transubstantiation, on the 
other hand, who is satisfied with evidence insuffi- 
cient both in its measure and its nature, is led to 
embrace a faith, which makes the gospel itself in- 
credible, by making it responsible for a doctrine 



318 



A DISSERTATION. 



contradictory to nature, to reason, and to other 
parts of the scriptures themselves. It is evidently 
very important, therefore, that we should guard 
against the danger of requiring too much, or of be 
ing contented with too little proof of our religious 
opinions. For this reason it seems to be proper, 
that one, who has never critically examined the 
proofs of the doctrine of the Trinity, should inquire, 
by what sort of evidence we may justly expect 
such a doctrine would be accompanied. Mr. Yates, 
in his 6 Vindication of Unitarianism,' has touched 
on this subject ; but its importance may be 
thought to justify a more ample consideration. 

A doctrine may, a priori, or previously to a mi- 
nute inquiry into its proofs, have a presumption 
either in its favour, or against it. A proposition 
which is at once perceived to be consonant to rea- 
son and the general tenor of the scriptures, will 
have a previous presumption in its favour, and may 
be believed to be a true doctrine of Christianity, 
with little hesitation. On the contrary, a proposi- 
tion, which is apparently both irrational and un- 
scriptural, will have a previous presumption against 
it, and requires a more scrupulous examination, and 
a fuller and more unequivocal evidence, before 
it can be embraced. There is a previous proba- 
bility, for example, that the doctrine of a provi- 
dence will be found in the New Testament, and a 
previous improbability, that the doctrine of tran- 
substantiation will be found there. 



V DISSERTATION. 



319 



In applying this general principle, we may safely 
say, that there is a strong presumption that the 
scriptures will not be found to contain any doctrine 
apparently inconsistent with the unity of God. 
There is no truth of greater clearness or higher 
authority, than that there is but one God. Both 
philosophy and revelation unite in confirming it. 
The systematical unity and harmony of design con- 
spicuous throughout the universe, extending to the 
moral as well as the physical world,* lead us to the 
conclusion that the cause of all is One. All the ar- 
guments, which demonstrate the existence of God, 
lead us to the same conclusion. They all result in 
this, that the non-existence of an infinite, original, 
eternal mind, implies an absurdity, a contradiction, 
an impossibility. But this reasoning can hold of 
only one such mind. For, since one such mind is 
adequate to every effect, if it could be maintained 
that more than one could exist, it might be said of 
each of them, separately, that its nonexistence is 
possible ; and necessary existence, therefore, could 
be proved of neither of them. That therefore, 
which is the essence of every argument for the be- 
ing of a God, would lose all its force, and Atheism 
would be established on the ruins of all religion. 
But, indeed, the existence of one infinite mind ex- 
cludes, by the very definition of infinity, the possi- 
bility that there should be more than one. If we 
attempt to form the supposition of a second infinite 



* Stewart's Philosophy of the Mind, Vol. II. p. 324—7. Boston ed. 



320 



A DISSERTATION. 



Being, we at once see, that it must in every parti- 
cular be entirely coincident with the first ; that is 
to say, as to all our ideas, it will necessarily be one 
and the same.* 

To this great truth, that there is but one God- 
both the Jewish and Christian revelations lend all 
the weight of their divine authority. Nothing can 
be more full and express than their testimony 
to this point. It was the great object of Judaism 
to preserve this truth amidst the polytheism of the 
ancient world. So sacred was it esteemed by the 
Jews, that it was a custom of theirs even till mo- 
dern times, to repeat every morning and evening 
the passage of Deuteronomy; Hear, O Israel, 
Jehovah our God, Jehovah is one. It is needless, 
however, to multiply proofs of this point, since it is 
one of those primary principles, quod semper, quod 
ubique* quod ab omnibus creditum. All christians, 
of every name, with whatever inconsistency it may 
sometimes be done, are compelled by the force of 
scripture testimony to acknowledge, that there is 

* " For if we suppose more than one, it is plain, since the attributes of 
infinite power, knowledge and goodness include all possible perfection, that 
they must be entirely alike to each other without the least possible varia- 
tion. They will therefore entirely coalesce in our idea, i. e. be one to us. 
Since they fill all time and space, and are all independent, omnipotent, om- 
niscient, and infinitely benevolent, their ideas cannot be separated, but will 
have a numerical as well as a generical identity. When we suppose other 
beings generically the same, and yet numerically different, we do, at the 
same time, suppose, that they exist in different portions of time and space ; 
which circumstances cannot have place in respect of the supposed plurality 
of infinite beings. We conclude therefore, that there is but one infinite 
being, or God." Hartley on Man, Vol. II, p. 30, 4th edition. 



A DISSERTATION. 



321 



one God> and that there is none other, but He. 
We are authorized by this universal concession to 
take this doctrine as an axiom in all our reasonings 
on this subject, and to say, that whatever else may 
be false, this must be true. 

As therefore the unity of God stands on the 
highest possible evidence, we are sure, that all 
other truths of religion will be really consistent 
with it, and of course there is a high probability 
that they will all be apparently consistent with it. 
We ought to view every proposition, which seems 
to contradict it, with doubt and suspicion ; for we 
are certain, that such a proposition must either be 
false, or else that we do not understand it. We 
are justified therefore in saying, that there is, a 
priori, a strong presumption against any proposition 
which apparently interferes with the doctrine of 
the Unity of God. We do not say that this pre- 
sumption is so strong that no evidence can remove 
it. But we must all admit, that till the compatibi- 
lity of such a doctrine with this primary truth is 
rendered manifest, every thing must be presumed 
against it, and nothing in its favour. 

Now there is scarcely any one who will deny 
that the doctrine of the Trinity is apparently incon- 
sistent with the unity of God. There is a strong 
apparent discordance, we must all own, between 
the two propositions, that God is One, and that 
God is Three. It is not till after many subtile and 
metaphysical distinctions are made, that any one 
41 



322 



A DISSERTATION. 



will pretend that the harmony and consistency be- 
tween them become visible. This is true of all 
the technical statements of this doctrine which 
have ever been given. They have undergone 
many changes since the doctrine of the Trinity 
was finally completed towards the close of the 
fourth century ; but the same essential difficulty 
still adheres to them all. It must always be af- 
firmed, under some form or other, by every be- 
liever in a Trinity in unity, that Three, in some 
sense or other, are One, and One is Three. It is 
true, that while any term of the proposition is de- 
clared to be mysterious, ineffable, and indefinable, 
it is impossible to demonstrate that it affirms a con- 
tradiction. We only say of it that it is apparently 
inconsistent with the doctrine of the unity of God 
in the natural and plain meaning of words. We 
say only, that if it mean any thing like what such 
words would mean in any other proposition, it 
means something, between which, and the assertion 
that three Gods are one God, it is difficult to dis- 
cern a difference. 

The apparent inconsistency of the doctrine of 
the Trinity with the unity of God becomes much 
stronger, when we examine the practical statements 
that are given of it. In speaking of its theory, its 
advocates secure themselves from attack, by de- 
clining to say what they mean, and calling that a 
mystery, which might otherwise seem to be a 
contradiction. " Unless we have some notion of the 



\ DISSERTATION. 



323 



thing itself,'- Mr. Wardlaw exultingly asks, k - on 
what principle can we possibly make out its con- 
trariety to reason." But the case is different in 
the practical statements of the doctrine of the Tri- 
nity. When the proposition is entire, and the con- 
tradiction would appear manifest if words were al- 
lowed to bear any distinct meaning, its friends pro- 
test, that they use the word 16 Person" only " for 
want of a better word," and declare, that we have 
no definite conception in what sense it is to be un- 
derstood. But when they speak of the " Persons" 
separately, their difficulties seem all to vanish. Mr. 
Wardlaw after all his grave descant on mystery 
and things above reason, in stating the proposition 
of the Trinity, when he comes to discourse on the 
personality of the Holy Spirit, suddenly finds a 
flood of light open on him. His ideas become as 
distinct as those of other men, and it is evident he 
means by " Person" what every one else means. 
Thus it is with all the believers of the Trinity. 
When they speak of the persons who compose it 
separately, there is little difficulty in understanding 
their meaning. They ascribe severally to the Fa- 
ther, to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost, all that 
goes to make up our ideas of three perfectly dis- 
tinct Gods. Each has a different name ; different 
agencies or offices ; distinct and independent power ; 
and above all, each is a distinct object of supreme 
worship and adoration. Of the Father, it may be 
said, that He is the infinite, eternal, self-existent 
God : of the Son it may be said, that He is the in- 



324 



A DISSERTATION. 



finite, eternai, self-existent God : of the Holy 
Ghost it may be said, that He is the infinite, 
eternal, self-existent God. It is expressly de- 
clared, that these are not merely different names 
or different modes of operation of the same 
person. The pronouns I, Thou, He, may be used 
as freely of each of these different " subsistences," 
as they may be of three different men. Now all 
we say of this doctrine, which applies the name 
and attributes of God to three distinct and inde- 
pendent agents, is, that to a common mind there is 
in it an apparent inconsistency, a seeming incompa- 
tibility with the doctrine that there is One God 
and none other but He. The most zealous Trini- 
tarian must admit, that if the same proposition were 
found in the Hindu Mythology, we should take it, 
till better informed, for something very much re- 
sembling a contradiction. 

The use we make of these facts and reasonings 
is, not to say that the doctrine of the Trinity can- 
not be found in the scriptures, but simply that we 
should not expect it to be found there. There is a 
very high probability, a strong previous presump- 
tion, that it will not be found there. A student 
of the Bible is bound to take it for granted, that it 
is not there, till it is proved that it undoubtedly is ; 
he must conclude it to be false, till it is fully and 
clearly demonstrated to be true. Every thing 
must be presumed against its evidence, and nothing 
jn its favour. It will prov^ nothing for such a doc- 
trine, that passages can be produced, which may 



A DISSERTATION. 



325 



possibly mean something like it, unless it can be 
unequivocally shown, that they cannot possibly 
mean any thing else. We must all sit down to the 
study of the scriptures as Unitarians ; and nothing 
but their clear and decisive testimony ought to 
make us Trinitarians. 

We have suggested, that in proportion as the 
previous presumption against any doctrine is strong, 
the evidence by which this presumption is to be 
set aside, may be justly expected to be correspon- 
dent^ abundant and clear. This expectation is 
heightened, in proportion as the sources, from 
which the evidence is drawn, are fewer and nar- 
rower. In a case like that of the Trinity, where 
the doctrine is acknowledged to be of the highest 
importance, and where the scripture testimony is 
the only medium of proof, we may certainly look 
for the utmost plainness and directness in every 
proposition relating to the subject. The presump- 
tion against the doctrine of the Trinity, and the 
consequent necessity of an increase of proof to re- 
move it, become stronger, when it is considered, 
that this doctrine, if proved at all, must be proved 
from the JYew Testament alone ; as we shall now at- 
tempt to shew. 

I am aware, that there is a small number of pas- 
sages in the Old Testament, in which it is thought 
some allusions are found to a plurality in the divine 
nature. If these passages alone, however, were 
all the support of the doctrine of the Trinity % I 



326 



A DISSERTATION, 



imagine none would think them of great weight. 
No one will say, that a reader of the Old Testa- 
ment merely, would find there any revelation of 
three distinct objects of supreme religious worship. 
He would find nothing from which he could infer, 
that Jesus Christ is the supreme, self-existent God, 
the Father of Jesus Christ also the supreme, self- 
existent God, and a Holy Spirit proceeding from 
them both, also the supreme, self-existent God. 
We may think, that after this doctrine has been 
clearly discovered in the New Testament, we may 
find allusions to it in the Old. But no one, I am 
confident, will affirm, that a reader of the Old Tes- 
tament merely, at the present day, would find there 
any mention of Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, in 
the connexion in which they are now used. 

It is generally acknowledged, that this was in 
fact the state of mind of the great body of the Jew- 
ish nation, at the time of the appearing of our Lord. 
It has indeed been very laboriously attempted to 
be shown, that vestiges of something like a doc- 
trine of the Trinity are to be found in the faith of 
the ancient Jewish Church. But it is conceded by 
Basnage, and even by Allix and Jamieson, that if 
this idea had ever been entertained, it was lost 
among the mass of the Jews whom our Lord ad- 
dressed. Whether right or wrong, they were be- 
yond all question wholly unsuspicious of any modi- 
fication of the divine unity. Still, however, our 
argument admits of taking a less broad position; 



\ DISSERTATION. 



327 



and to avoid all possibility of cavil, we shall simply 
say, that at the time of the introduction of the gos- 
pel, it was wholly unknown to any human being, 
that worship is to be addressed to God the Father, 
God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost. 

Let it now be considered, with what kind and 
what degree of evidence we are to expect this 
doctrine would be unfolded in the New Testament. 
A doctrine of great magnitude was to be disclosed, 
against which there would justly arise, at first view, 
in the mind of every believer in the unity of God, 
a very strong presumption. It was not a truth of 
natural religion which was simply to be republish- 
ed and confirmed; but a truth was to be revealed 
in apparent contradiction to natural religion. The 
Jews, too, we must remember, had been accustom- 
ed to the greatest solemnity in every thing which 
related to the great and only object of worship. It 
was from the " awful top," and amidst the terrors 
of Sinai, that God declared to them, " I am the 
Lord thy God. Thou shalt have no other Gods 
before me." A most important modification of this 
commandment was now to be made. Two entire- 
ly new objects* of worship were to be revealed, 

* No Trinitarian can object to this statement of their doctrine as teach- 
ing three distinct and supreme objects of worship. They certainly do re- 
present our Lord to be as much an object of prayer and adoration, as God 
his Father. Indeed, if the three constituents of the Trinity are three dis- 
tinct objects of thought, they are also three distinct objects of worship. If 
they are not distinct objects of thought, how absurd is it to pretend to speak 
of what we cannot even think ? 



328 



A DISSERTATION, 



and the first commandment was now to be so far 
changed, as to run more correctly thus : We are 
the Lord thy Gods. Thou shalt have no other 
Gods before us. Let those, who deem so highly 
of the importance of the doctrine of the Trinity, 
who make it the basis of the gospel, who believe 
there is no Christianity without it, who think that 
all the best hopes of man depend on its truth, — 
let these persons say, with what clearness and what 
solemnity we might expect such a doctrine to be 
revealed ? # 

Might we not expect, that our Lord himself 
would at least once have stated the doctrine of the 
Trinity in express language, and have insisted on 
the importance and necessity of believing it. Would 
he not, at least once, have declared formally and 
explicitly, that the first commandment was no lon- 
ger to be understood in its plain and literal mean- 
ing ; the meaning in which all his hearers had been 
accustomed to understand it. The word God oc- 



* " I cannot help considering it as a monstrous insult to the Divine au- 
thor of revelation," says Mr. Wardlaw himself, as truly as eloquently, " to 
admit the supposition for a moment, that on such subjects as these it should 
be necessary to wade through the multifarious opinions of antiquity, in or- 
der to understand his meaning. I say on such subjects as these ; for if on 
these points there is such a want of explicitness — points that regard the ob- 
jects of worship, the state and prospects of man, and foundation of his 
hopes for eternity, — on what subject shall we look for precision? If it 
were indeed the case, that on such topics as these the Bible is indeterminate, 
requiring for the explanation of its language the commentary 6f ancient 
opinion, the infidel would be furnished with an argument against its divine 
origin, more powerful than any he has ever been able to produce." Preface. 
IX. [Nothing can be better said than this.] 



A DISSERTATION 329 

curs nearly thirteen hundred times in the new Tes- 
tament, and might we not suppose, that, in some 
one of these passages, we should be expressly told, 
that the term is meant to include, not simply erne, 
but three persons or subsistences, to each of which 
that title is applicable? If, in every instance 
where this word is used alone, it implies a plurality 
in the divine nature, should we be unable to find 
one solitary example of the application of plural 
pronouns in the whole New Testament ? Would 
neither our Lord, nor any one of his Apostles, have 
left a single sentence, in which the whole doctrine 
of the Trinity can be fully and accurately expres- 
sed ? Should we expect to find no care to make 
accurate and evident distinctions between the doc- 
trine of a Trinity and the dangerous Polytheistical 
notion of the heathens ? The doctrine of the 
unity of God is more than once introduced in the 
New Testament, and laid down most clearly and 
solemnly. Our Lord himself repeats these most 
impressive words to the Scribes. The first of all 
the commandments is : " Hear, O Israel, the Lord 
our God is one Lord." Now, could we have sup- 
posed, that, as our Saviour knew this would be 
construed by all his hearers as teaching, that there 
is only one object of supreme worship, he would 
have omitted such an occasion as this of declaring, 
that in ..truth there are three ? Could we have 
supposed, that since the main argument for the 
Trinity, from the Old Testament, rests on the plu- 
42 



330 



A DISSERTATION - 



ral form of Dr6tf, which Mr. Wardlaw translates 
Gods, the Evangelist should have chosen to'de- 
stroy this argument by using the singular noun 
which all know it is impossible should be translated 
otherwise than simply God ? 

If it should be said, that there might be reasons 
why our Lord did not publicly teach this doctrine,, 
should we not expect some account of his private 
communications of it to his disciples ? Would they 
have preserved no record of their first knowledge 
of a truth so wonderful, and so essential a part of 
the christian system ? If we can suppose that our 
Saviour himself forbore to teach publicly that, 
which was in fact the great principle on which his 
whole gospel turned, why this reserve in his disci- 
ples ? The gospels were not written till several 
years after his death, and many of the epistles still 
later, and should we have expected, that they 
would not have given a hint of the time or the 
circumstances, when this stupendous truth was un- 
folded to them ? Observe in the Acts, how mi- 
nutely and fully the manner is declared, in which 
the doctrine of the extension of Christianity to the 
Gentiles was unfolded. And could we have thought, 
that the first revelation of the so much more diffi- 
cult and so much more incredible doctrine of the 
Trinity, would not have occupied a single line of 
the sacred history ? We are told so unimportant 
a thing as w r hen the disciples were first called 
Christians. Would the time, when the worship of 



A DISSERTATION. 



331 



one object of adoration was exchanged for the 
worship of three, have been thought unworthy the 
passing notice of the recorders of our faith ? If 
for any reason it was improper for the Apostles 
themselves, in all their different epistles, to give a 
single example of ascription to Father, Son, and 
Holy Ghost, would it have been too much to ex- 
pect, that we should be informed, when such wor- 
ship was first made lawful and necessary for other 
Christians ? 

But if all these expectations were groundless ; 
if it were necessary, that such a doctrine, though 
it must be learned from scripture alone, should yet 
never once be fully and plainly declared in the 
scriptures ; if we could suppose, that it would on- 
ly be dropped incidentally, and be left to us to col- 
lect and put together, from a few fragments of 
discourse thinly scattered through the sacred vo- 
lume ; if we could suppose, that not only whole 
chapters, but whole books, should exist without the 
smallest allusion to that which is the key-stone of 
the whole gospel ; if all this were no more than 
was to be expected, still could we believe that the 
New Testament should contain any thing contra- 
dictory to this doctrine ? Could we have supposed, 
that there should be two hundred and forty 
passages in the New Testament, from which our 
Saviour's subordination to the Father may be de- 
duced ; and not less than four hundred and forty 
passages in which the Father is so mentioned, as 



•332 



A DISSERTATION. 



to lead to the conclusion that he is exclusively 
the supreme God. We may easily account, on the 
Unitarian hypothesis, for many very strong and ele- 
vated epithets ascribed to our Saviour, a Being so 
dignified in himself, so perfect in his character, so 
great in his office, and now so highly exalted by 
his God. But what account can be given of pas- 
sages, which contain the most express and for- 
mal contradiction of the equality of Jesus with 
God ? Or, if this for any inconceivable reason was 
necessary, at least should we not expect, that the 
manner in which the contradiction was to be re- 
conciled would be explained or hinted at? If we 
were reasoning on any other subject, we should 
say, that one such passage as this, " My Father is 
greater than I," introduced with nothing to explain 
or limit it, would set aside a thousand mere infe- 
rences of ours in favour of a doctrine, which contra- 
dicts this truth. They who can believe, that, al- 
though it was the express design of St. John in his 
gospel to supply the deficiencies of the other 
Evangelists with regard to the Trinity,* he would 
yet set down without a word of caution or com- 
ment such passages as these, " I came from hea- 
ven, not to do mine own will, but the will of him 
that sent me " My doctrine is not mine, but his 



* This idea is maintained by Trinitarians, notwithstanding the evange- 
list expressly tells us : " These things are written that ye might believe, that 
Jesus is the Christ, the son of the living God, and that believing ye might 
have life through his name." 



A DISSERTATION. 



333 



that sent me ;" " The father, which sent me, gave 
me a commandment, what I should say, and what 
I should speak;" "The Father, that dwelleth in 
me, he doeth the works " For the father is 
greater than I " And this is life eternal, that 
they might know thee, the only true God, and 
Jesus Christ whom thou has sent" — they, I say, who 
can believe, that these and other similar passages 
would be set down by a Trinitarian, in the act of 
proving his doctrine, with no word connected with 
them to restrain their natural import, ought at least 
to be more sparing of their charges on others of 
want of reverence for the scriptures. 

These expectations with regard to the kind and 
degree of evidence, which Ave might have expect- 
ed to find in the New Testament, for the doctrine 
of the Trinity, are not only intrinsically reasonable, 
but conform to the analogy of the scriptures them- 
selves. The doctrine of immortal life is in some 
respects under similar circumstances with that of 
the Trinity. Neither of them is expressly taught 
in the Old Testament ; though it is thought that 
there are allusions to both. Moses, however, as 
he never taught the Hebrews, that there are more 
objects of worship than one, so he never employed 
a future life as the sanction of any of his laws. 
So far there is an agreement in the circumstances 
of the two doctrines. In all other respects, that 
of the Trinity is by far the stronger case, and 
would seem to require a much fuller and clearer 



334 



A DISSERTATION. 



revelation. The doctrine of immortality is one, 
which, if not demonstrable from the light of nature 
alone, certainly has many most powerful arguments 
in its favour. Bishop Butler has finely shown, that 
there is nothing in the fact or circumstances of 
death, which furnishes any presumption against its 
truth. We know it also as a historical fact, that 
it was the belief of the great body of the Jewish 
nation at the time of our Saviour's advent. The 
Pharisees who embraced it were the ruling party. 
All these are circumstances which would seem to 
diminish the necessity of a very full, formal, and 
frequent recognition of the doctrine in the New 
Testament. 

But how stands the fact ? This doctrine, which 
is really a fundamental, is treated as such through- 
out the New Testament. It shines every where 
in heaven's oAvn light. It fell constantly from the 
lips of our Lord. It is asserted and reiterated by 
every one of his apostles. It is interwoven into 
the whole texture of Christianity. If then such 
plenary proof is afforded to a doctrine, which rea- 
son, instinct, the tradition of the earliest antiquity, 
and every good feeling of the human heart, all dis- 
pose us to embrace, what evidence may we not 
justly expect for such a doctrine as the Trinity ? 
The previous presumption is all against this opinion, 
as much as it is in favour of the doctrine of immor- 
tality. Up to this very day, its advocates have 
been unable fully and fairly to state it in any lan- 



A DISSERTATION. 



335 



guage, in which terms have a known and definite 
meaning, without involving an assertion of three 
Gods, or else an express and manifest contradiction. 
We have a right to expect, therefore, that this 
difficulty will be removed in the scripture, and that 
all we are to believe on this subject will there be 
expressed in plain and intelligible language. It is 
from this source alone, we are to remember, that 
we are to gather all our ideas on this subject. 
This high and awful mystery lies wholly within the 
province of revelation. How strong and clear, 
then, will be the light, which will be shed on it 
in the sacred volume, if it be indeed a truth, and 
especially a fundamental truth of Christianity ! 
How much stronger and clearer, than that which 
is thrown on the doctrine of immortal life ! 

I have thus attempted to state some prelimina- 
ry considerations, which ought to be kept in view 
by every one who is about to examine the New 
Testament on the subject of the Trinity. It is be- 
lieved to be utterly impossible, that a man of a 
sound mind, who carries with him to the scriptures 
just views of the evidence which this doctrine de- 
mands, or may be expected to possess, can receive 
it as a part of the gospel, especially as a truth es- 
sential to salvation. 



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